My Sister and the Devil
by Orioles1997
Summary: Thirty years of misery and misfortune have haunted Buttercup. Now, she finally tells all, and just when she finishes taking us through her story of woe, a chance for redemption presents itself at the most unlikely of times. But is Buttercup, now a broken woman, up to the task? (M-MA)
1. Chapter 1

My Sister and the Devil

Part I:

Thirty years have passed, and I cannot, for the life of me, begin to comprehend the events that transpired on that fateful, dubious, and utterly life-altering night. Even the moon seemed to sense the ominous and foreboding feeling that dominated the evening, adding to the melancholic proceedings with a bloodstained red glow behind the black clouds that shrouded it.

My sisters and I, whose job it was to save Townsville from certain annihilation, had seen our fair share of unspeakable evil, repulsive maladies, and precarious situations. We had been created by Professor Utonium for the very purpose of fighting the various criminals, deviants, and villains of the city. In his laboratory, he mixed sugar, spice, and everything nice together, and added a dose of Chemical X. This lethal chemical gave us superhuman strength, speed, and the ability to fly, among other gifts which only the truly blessed have ever possessed. Despite being only five-year old children, we were the most important members of the city.

Blossom, the self-elected leader of our trio, had long, beautiful red hair with a large red bow on her head that she wore like a tiara. Among us, Blossom was most distinguishable from a crowd among our trio because of her bright, pink eyes, which had a gleam in them that was unmistakable from even a long distance. This gleam in her eye gave her the appearance of someone wise beyond her years, and she quickly won over Townsville's citizenry whenever she spoke, as the gleam had the effect of turning into a trustworthy twinkle that danced around the pink in her eye as she did so, endearing the audience to her with mystifying ease. She also had a walk, which was almost akin to a strut, brimming with a confidence that she could solve any problem which befell us. This confidence was not unfounded, as she had not yet devised a battle plan that failed us in action. No matter how daunting, hopeless, and truly gruesome our situation looked, Blossom found a way, sometimes on pure willpower, but she always won the day.

I, Buttercup, the middle sister, had the label of being the most physically gifted and athletic. I made the utmost effort to look the part, keeping my jet-black hair short and sharp on the ends, and spending the majority of my leisure time punching frozen slabs of beef and being the ace pitcher on the local youth softball team. My lime-green eyes also struck fear into the hearts of grown men, for I could hold someone in a piercing, stone-cold stare for several minutes. I approached our work with a no-nonsense attitude: Kill or be killed. Often, I squabbled with Blossom, as I very rarely saw her tactical approach to every battle as necessary, preferring to get to the point, test my mettle against our challenger, and win the day. I must confess, however, that as much as I hate to admit it, Blossom's tactical and meticulous planning proved both pivotal and necessary when confronted with a more cunning, malicious enemy. Blossom atoned for her lack of physical prowess by utilizing mine to the fullest extent in our plans, often creating a diversion so I could deliver a direct, fatal blow to our adversary.

Bubbles, the youngest, radiated innocence. Her hair was a fair blonde, ending in two pigtails on both sides of her head, and her large, baby blue eyes were soft and comforting, which she coupled with a serene, placid smile which won her the adoration of everyone she met. The feature that truly marked her innocence was not one of her physiological features, but rather her unwavering optimism. Even as Blossom and I debated which of our battle strategies would be better, Bubbles always would pitch in, reassuring us that we'd come to the right decision, because we were superheroes and needed to be a team. Whenever a distress call from Townsville signaled the need for our aid, Bubbles was always confident that we, no matter the situation, would come out on top. This optimism served as a much-needed relief in the heat of battle, as her optimism was oftentimes contagious, and it complemented Blossom and my realistic cynicism so well that her optimism alone often elevated our performance level. Bubbles lacked the logical thought of Blossom and my physical prowess, but she had agility that both Blossom and I lacked, as well as the aforementioned (and far more valuable) purity of spirit.

Blossom's cunning and wit, my Herculean strength, and Bubbles' quickness made us quite the tandem. To date, there had never been a situation that, going into the heat of the fight, we didn't feel we could handle. The world was our oyster, and we would not be denied.

However, there was something about this night that was not present in any of our past encounters with the sinister and depraved. Was it danger? No. Danger was omnipresent in our line of work. Was it fear? No, I fear nothing. I couldn't then, and I sure cannot now, quite wrap my head around why, but something about the feeling that a battle with a faceless foe was inevitably about to commence brought with it a sense of utmost dread, a sense that this time, no matter how resourceful, powerful, and perfect our battle plan may have been, that something would go horribly wrong. This dread, which engulfed my mind, body, and even the darkest depths of my soul, was overpowering.

Blossom, ever vigilant and, even if fazed, never let it show when preparing for a fight, clearly shared the same fear as I. We spoke not a word, but one look into her bright, pink eyes confirmed for me what I already knew: Blossom also was fighting an internal battle against the all-encompassing dread, as evidenced by the gleam that is seldom absent from her eyes quickly fading. Her pupils were dilated more than usual, and she walked cautiously, the confident spring in her step nowhere to be found. Blossom was thinking the same thing I was: There was no distress signal for our aid yet, but it was only a matter of when, not if.

Overshadowing mine and Blossom's dread, however, was Bubbles' complete change in demeanor on this ominous night. The happy-go-lucky, sweet, lovable, and innocent Bubbles was a shell of herself. Even when distress calls came, she was excited to get to fight, prove her worth to us, and make the enemy pay when they made the inevitable mistake of disregarding her as weak and feeble. That night, though, even the unflappable Bubbles was frightened by the night's atmosphere to the point where she sat on our bed, clutching her octopus doll, Octi, staring at the sky in a catatonic state. "Please, let Townsville be safe tonight!" she muttered, unmoving, staring into the heavens.

As the night progressed, no distress call came our way, and we sat around and waited for what seemed like an eternity. In each of our minds, a swirling tempest of fear, paranoia, dread, and foreboding consumed us. We sat in our room, not speaking a word, trying to brave the storm violently rattling inside our very heads.

Suddenly, as the psychological storm reached its peak in our minds, the wind began to howl outside our window. The trees shook violently, and thunder began to rumble in the sky. I made nothing of this, and evidently, neither did my sisters, who were also far too deep in their own demented thoughts to pay notice to an atypical violent storm making its presence known to the world.

Continuing to listen to the wind howl, I began to focus on its howling and the rain which began to pelt the earth. In a twisted way, this storm was therapeutic for me, as I focused on its methodical howling and pelting, instead of the anxiety with which I was ridden.

With my mind finally at ease, the weather seemed to have a conscious, and seemingly knew I was feeling better, because that is the only possible logical explanation for what happened next. As a small, almost cautious grin stretched across my face, and I shut my eyes for the first time in what felt like hours, the wind howled again, but this time, the wind did not sound like wind. Instead, an inhuman growl pierced the night with this gust. The growl sent a chill down my spine so severe, so cold, and so sharp, that I felt like my entire body contorted. That sound, whatever it was, was _not_ of this world.  
"What was that?!" I shrieked.

Blossom, stunned by being taken out of her trance, replied. "What was what?"

"How did you not hear that?!"

"Hear what?

"That…growl."

"Growl?"

"Yes! That growl!"

"It's just the wind, Buttercup."

"That's not wind, Blossom! Wind doesn't sound like _that_!"

"It's clearly a product of your overactive imagination, Buttercup. It's a spooky night; your mind is playing a trick on you."

"The hell it is! That growl sounded like…like…"

"Like what?"

And then the growl, this time longer, more menacing in its delivery, made its presence known again. Blossom stood there, frozen with fear.

"Like that."

"Oh my God…what was that?! That certainly _wasn't_ wind!"

"I think it was the devil." Bubbles said, out of nowhere, rather flatly.

"The devil?" Blossom asked, in stunned disbelief.

"Yes, the devil." There was something very unnerving about Bubbles' uncharacteristically flat affect.

"That's silly, the devil lives in hell. This is the mortal world. What would he want in this realm?"

"People to take into his service, I suppose."

"You sound awfully calm, considering you're talking about the devil…" I said.

"I guess I feel safe with you two around me."

"Regardless, girls, if there is something paranormal about this storm, no distress calls have come yet, so we must be ready if it indeed–"

And then, the phone, which all three of us were so desperately hoping would not ring, rang.

"Hello? What's the trouble, mayor?" asked Blossom.

She then stared into space as the mayor explained his situation, clearly quite harried and panicked, as the terror in his voice could be heard from halfway across the room.

"We're on our way, mayor!"

"Well, girls, we know what we have to do…we have a long night ahead of us. Let's go!"

And we flew into the blood-red, unholy night.


	2. Chapter 2

**Hey, guys! Thanks for the early reviews! I hope you enjoy it! This story is already finished, and I will upload chapters every Monday, Wednesday, and Friday! I hope you all had a good weekend! :D**

**I'd like to take this moment to shout out to Solar Winded Flare, and tell her thank you for all her help in showing me the ropes of this site, but more importantly than that, becoming a great friend to me in the process! Keep your great writing up! :)**

**I do not own the Powerpuff Girls.**

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Typically, flight was an effortless, liberating, and empowering experience for my sisters and I, if anything because flight was a gift that was exclusively ours. We never admitted it, but for the fact that it was something so exclusive, special, and unique to us, we cherished it above all of our other uncharacteristically powerful gifts. But, as fate would have it, not even flight came easily tonight. The violent winds whipped all around us, and the torrential downpour had us drenched in an unpleasant mix of rain, ice, and sweat within mere minutes of heading for Townsville.

Freezing, focused, and, admittedly frightened, my mind began to drift. I can't even begin to describe how desperately I wished it hadn't. Normally during flight, my mind would take me to positive places while we effortlessly flew to our destination. However, the only place with which my mind could deviate tonight was to that menacing, malicious, dreadful _growl_ that accompanied the howls of the wind. For what felt like an eternity, the growl replayed in my mind, each time longer, more emphatic, and louder. As my heart raced, and my mind infinitely repeated that unspeakably evil growl, I had an uneasy feeling that we were being watched. I began frantically looking in all directions for any set of prying, watchful eyes. The frantic search for an onlooker allowed my mind time to focus on reality, and not the growl, but the wind was no longer howling.

The winds kept whipping, with ever-increasing speed, growling, and no longer howling, angrily at the world. Then, as I made note of the absence of the once-prevalent howl, it hit me like a sack of bricks. The inhuman growl was _not _replaying in my mind! It _was _getting louder, and more importantly, it was getting _closer! _We _were_ being watched, and, more disturbingly, followed, by an unseen, malevolent entity, and it was zeroing in on its target: _Us!_

Just as I had made this terrifying discovery, I felt something rush by my left cheek. Assuming, nay, _praying, _it was one of my beloved sisters, I quickly turned my head to look for the source of the rush. However, neither Blossom nor Bubbles were there to claim it. Before I could turn my head back straight ahead, the rush came again, this time from my right. Again I turned my head. Once more, nothing was there. The rush continued coming, in quicker and quicker succession, until I decided staring forward would be the best way to catch whatever was tailing us. As I stared ahead, I caught it. Encircling my sisters and I was a black, bat-shaped figure, with two yellow slits for eyes. Each turn around, he got faster, muttering some unheard incantation from a small slit under his eyes that you could loosely call a mouth.

As I realized that my sisters had somehow not noticed this presence, I took the only action that came to mind. I flew high, so as to break the bat-figure's perfect circle, which would certainly draw the attention of Blossom, who hated any deviations in flight patterns.

I got the desired result. Before I could even get as high as I planned to get, Blossom was in hot pursuit.

"What in the _world _are you doing, Buttercup? More importantly, what is the point of this?"

"Going higher than you; what does it look like I'm doing?" I replied, trying to not alert her to the bat-figure.

"Buttercup, you know we never fly out-of-pattern or as individuals. We are a team!"

Annoyed with her haughty attitude when there were far more pressing matters to deal with, I dropped all pretenses.

"Blossom…may I please _kindly_ now ask you to look down and look at the black, shadowy demon circling our youngest sister?"

Upon seeing the bat-figure, Blossom frantically screamed for Bubbles to fly higher. Bubbles did as instructed immediately, clearly confused as to why Blossom and I had flown up high and said nothing to her.

"What's going on, guys? Why did you go so high up without telling me?"

"Look below you!" Blossom and I replied in unison.

Bubbles, even in the catatonic state she had been in all night, gave a shudder as the bat continued to circle, slowly realizing it had lost its targets. Upon this realization, 'it didn't take it long to find us, and we hastily sped off once more. Before long, the entity was circling its prey again, and I knew I had to do something. Once more I ascended, this time dangerously close to the rumbling heavens, and waited for my sisters to follow.

"What is that thing?" asked Bubbles upon catching up to me.

"I haven't the first clue, but it's clearly nothing good if it's tailed us for the last thirty miles."

"But how on earth do we get rid of it?" Blossom asked.

"Well, for one thing, we must get out of suburbia and find another way into Townsville."

"We've always gone through the neighborhoods, Buttercup. What other route is there?"

"There's a more rural area about two miles from here that leads into a forest, and the forest edge leads us into Townsville Square. I know we've never gone that way, but the trees will give us some cover until we get to our destination. I have a feeling this thing, whatever it is, wants to make its move when we get there anyway, so as to have the most devastating effects."

"Good point, Buttercup. We'll take your route. Come on, Bubbles!"

Without further ado, we sped off in the direction of the forest, rain continuing to pelt us as we went along. We reached the forest, and the cover of the trees was a welcome relief from the rain. Unfortunately, our sense of relief was temporary at best. Almost instantly upon our entrance into the forest, lightning flashed across the sky, and eventually began striking the forest in all directions. The bat-figure also did not take long to catch up to us. He was in the forest. Even with the crackling lightning, roaring thunder, and growling winds, I could hear the bat-creature pursuing us, as trees whooshed to and fro behind us quite regularly.

Once we had successfully put some distance between ourselves and our malevolent adversary, an extraordinarily daunting reality hit us. Just as we began to approach the edge of the forest, and Townsville Square, the lightning hit the forest. This time, however, it struck at the most opportune spot, as trees crashed all around us, and lightning hit every patch of open earth available. As we attempted to leave the forest together, the trees continued to fall, until eventually we were forced to go in separate directions, or be crushed to death. This entity, whatever it was, had control of the elements.

As flames began to engulf the forest, I searched frantically for an alternate exit, but found myself getting deeper and deeper into the woods, and subsequently getting closer and closer to being trapped. The trees were so thick, dense, and tall in this neck of the woods that I dared not fly up, unsure of what lurked in the mysterious trees.

For what felt like an hour, I flew alone, unaware of the whereabouts of Blossom or Bubbles, or even if they were still alive. Finally, Blossom and I crossed paths, exhausted, frightened, and desperate to find the forest edge.

"Where's Bubbles?" I asked.

"I don't know! I've been looking for her! I found a way to the forest edge, we have to find her and –"

Then, just as she was about to tell me how to escape the forest, we heard a blood-curdling screech less than a mile away. The entity, whatever it was, had caught Bubbles.

Flying faster than we ever had, Blossom and I sped toward her cries, and eventually we had caught up to Bubbles. She seemed to have escaped the entity, or so we thought. Upon seeing us, an unseen force violently thrust Bubbles' body against a tree repeatedly. Blossom and I stood there, powerless, awestruck, and horrified.

This episode continued for what felt like an eternity, as Bubbles' body contorted in all types of disturbing ways, wailing out in pain each time.

"HELP ME!" she shrieked.

No longer able to watch my sister being violently and brutally attacked, I flew to try and help her, but was painfully greeted by my own body being violently dragged across the forest floor by the entity, until I was thrown against a tree seven times, and rocks began to fling themselves at my face. Being of stronger will than Bubbles, I was able to free myself before my face was permanently rearranged by the flying debris. I charged after Bubbles again, as did Blossom, but the entity feared my will, and dragged Bubbles, now unconscious, mercilessly across the forest floor.

Once again, we were outsmarted by the bat-creature, as we lost track of Bubbles, and, in desperation, followed the muddy trail her limp body had left in the mud to the forest edge.

Townsville Square was a horrifying site upon arrival. The city was entirely ablaze, the rain continued to pour, but the only thing on my mind was…

"Where's Bubbles?!" Blossom and I asked in unison.

"Right here," said a deep, menacing, bloodthirsty voice from the shadows.

And indeed, there she was, unharmed and conscious, but there was something entirely unsettling about her.


	3. Chapter 3

**Hey, guys! Thanks for continuing to follow! Just a note, originally, this story was split into three "Parts". Part I, II, and III. This is currently still Part I.**

**To AughraOfEarth: Yeah, I definitely did make that transition a bit breakneck! Honestly, though, at the time I was writing this portion (Which was back in around February), I felt I was starting to drag out the whole scene in the forest, so I tried to transition quickly. **

**To R0C95: That's the kind of reaction I'm looking for! ;) Thanks! :D**

**Also, if there is any confusion during this chapter, readers, please read the footnote at the end.**

**I do not own The Powerpuff Girls. **

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Bubbles stared at us coldly, as if we were strangers. She also wore a smug half-smirk on her face that was a far cry from what you'd expect from someone who mere minutes ago was being violently thrust about on a forest floor.

Perplexed but relieved to see our sister unscathed, we turned our attention to the menacing voice that greeted us upon arrival. Not surprisingly, the mysterious bat-figure claimed the voice quickly, as he flanked Bubbles on her left. The slit he spoke from curled into a demented smile, as small droplets of blood trickled down as he showed his teeth. The creature then began its growl again, as he expanded suddenly, as if he was not solid, but a veil of smoke. The creature slowly molded itself into a humanoid form, but he was utterly terrifying to behold. He was half-man, half-crustacean. He was what nightmares are made of. His beady yellow eyes were full of malice; he had claws for hands, a goatee, a red scarf and suit, and two black stilettos on his womanish legs.

"What…in the _hell…_are you?" asked an utterly stunned Blossom.

"Seriously, you look like you came straight out of Hell; who are you?" I said, trying to hide the utterly incapacitating fear I was feeling.

"Ironic that those are the sentiments with which you greet me with, my dear girls." He said to us in a falsetto voice.

"And why would that be, sir?" asked Blossom.

"Because…" he said in his falsetto tone once more, which then was replaced with his demonic growl as he spoke again, "I AM!"

"What do you want with us and the citizens of Townsville?" We asked, simultaneously.

"Nothing; I got what I came for, possession of a pure spirit." As he uttered these words, he began uttering some incantation, clearly in Latin, and began swirling in midair until a red ring of fire and blood consumed him; this ring then draped over our sister, and when the ring subsided, Bubbles was no longer in her blue dress. Instead, she was draped in a blood-red dress with two scarlet stilettos. Her blonde hair, oftentimes soft and pleasing, was now sharp on the ends, and a wicked fire was alight in both her eyes. Her lips curled into that unsettling, bloodthirsty smirk the Devil had greeted us with moments before and she had us in a soul-piercing stare.

"Bubbles, what are you doing?! What on_ earth_ are you doing?! We have to fight this entity! We're your_ sisters_!" I screamed, desperately appealing to any human forces that still dwelled deep within her.

"Sorry, girls; I am here to do the Devil's work." And before we could fully understand what was happening, Bubbles adopted the Prince of Darkness's growl, and charged at Blossom and I. Stunned, my temporary paralysis as my mind tried to catch up with the real world nearly cost me my life. Bubbles faked a strike at Blossom, swooped in behind me, and wrapped her hands around my head, attempting to snap my neck. I dipped down just in time before her hands could properly position themselves.

Enraged and heartbroken simultaneously, the realization dawned on me that Bubbles was now demonically possessed. Our worst fears were realized in a way worse than we could have ever possibly imagined. Not only did we not anticipate being down a member of our team, we now had to fight, possibly to the death, with our beloved sister. Instincts took over, and I charged at Bubbles, preparing to mercilessly beat her into submission. Unfortunately, in my blind rage, logic failed me. Bubbles, now with Satan's powers coursing through her veins, from both her arms, two red-hot flames emerged, and she thrust the flames at me. I swerved hastily to avoid them, and prepared to alter my strategy. Clearly, I would need to rely on some of my more inhuman abilities to best my sister.

Up to the task, I called upon my most powerful abilities that I was bestowed, and fired a heat ray at my sister. Expectedly, she dodged the attack. Bubbles quickly answered with another blast of fire, which I again dodged. The repercussions of our agility and tit-for-tat exchange in strikes, however, were that Townsville was already devastated. Each time one of our strikes missed the target, the flames or white-hot heat rays landed in the bowels of Townsville, adding to the destruction. Simultaneously, out of my peripheral vision, I noticed Blossom and the Devil were locked in a fight of their own. The blue streaks coming from Blossom indicated she was using her ice breath, while the Devil was using a myriad of paranormal tricks to counter her tactical logic, often vanishing and reappearing behind her or simply finding a way to deflect the ice beam and send it into the flames.

Both duels were emphatic stalemates. Blossom and the Devil, deadlocked in a deadly game of "super-powered Chess", and Bubbles and I in a deadly game of Battleship, each salvo more aggressive than the one prior. Eventually, I began to take some risks, realizing Bubbles and I were continuing to keep our fight at arms' length, attacking with fire, electricity, and manipulation of sound waves. Seeing as this had now persisted for the better portion of a half-hour, I threw all pretense and caution to the wind, and charged at my agile, demonically possessed sister. Bubbles continued to fire her red-hot flames in all directions, and I swiftly dodged each, zeroing in on her. Knowing what I was going to do, I feigned punching her in the face, waited for her to dip back, seized both ends of her hair, and took a nosedive. I was going to ram my evil sister's face into the sidewalk, rage engulfing me.

Just as I was ready to begin my plan, which, quite frankly, was to "beat" the Devil out of her, the Devil came to her aid. Before I could even react, Satan came whooshing to Bubbles' aid, and began flying me a good hundred yards from the action. Bubbles began to ascend, and Blossom pursued her up into the heavens.

Unable to escape Satan's clutches, he began to rush into a nosedive, he was about to send me to the grisly fate I was going to greet my sister with! No, not tonight, I thought. Desperate, I grasped one of his crab-like claws, and poked them back into his own eyes and broke free of his clutches and rushed to the aid of Blossom, with Satan in hot pursuit.

Satan attempted to get me back into his crustaceous clutches to send me to my skull-cracking death upon Townsville's pavement, but I was up to the task, and made quick, zig-zag motions in flight, positioning myself so as to kick him a pace back of myself whenever he got within arm's reach. This worked, as I was able, with more difficulty than I'd ever care to admit, reach my dueling sisters once more.

As was customary with this fight, Blossom and Bubbles were in a tit-for-tat exchange of devastating blows and masterful manipulation of the elements. I reached Blossom's side, and fired my heat ray at Bubbles, while Blossom shot her ice beam. Bubbles then charged me. However, she had tried this before! She wasn't really going to attack me! She was going for Blossom! In the split-second it took me to realize this, Satan had grasped me again, I was able to shake him off, but not before I heard a loud "SNAP" from my right. It was too late. I turned, desperately hoping to see Blossom, but instead I saw Bubbles, grinning maniacally. This time, her deception worked, she feigned a strike at me, snuck up behind Blossom, and snapped her neck. She held Blossom in her hands, delighted. The light had already left Blossom's eyes, and she stood in her sister's arms, unmistakably dead. Bubbles then released Blossom from her grasp, and she hit the ground with an ear-splitting _thud_. The infallible, ever-vigilant and confident Blossom was outsmarted and gone forever.

Even the frantic, imperiled city of Townsville, still coping with the flames that engulfed it, seemed to stand completely still. The world seemed to stand still. The stunning realization that I had failed my sister took over me, I had let her down. I had let everyone down, and now I'd never be able to speak to my beloved sister again. Heartbreak, devastation, anger, hatred, and self-loathing overpowered me.

"Well, one down, one to go. Good job, my lovely servant" said the Devil. He then descended into that now-familiar nosedive, preparing to take my sister to Hell with him.

"NO!" I shrieked, and followed him in hot pursuit. I was not going to let him take her! She was going to come home with me and have a proper burial! She would not be lost to the dark depths of Hell! I had gained rank on Satan when Bubbles herself caught up to me and thrust me twenty yards the other direction. As I had regained my footing midflight, I watched Satan vanish with the corpse of my sister.

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**Sorry to any Blossom fans!**

**Also, while I do call him "Satan" and "The Devil" in this story, that is not to be confused for anything but what he actually is: HIM. I just don't call him...HIM in this story, but it is HIM, because in the show, he was technically the Devil, so in this story I just dropped all pretense.**

**RIP Blossom. :(**


	4. Chapter 4

**Hey, guys! This is the final Chapter of Part I! Have a great weekend, and enjoy! **

**To AughraOfEarth and R0C95: Thank you for your reviews, thank you for following the story.**

**To SolarWindedFlare: I actually saw the message on Chapter 2 two days after it was written for some reason. You rock, but you know this by now. xD :)**

**I do not own the PPGs, or any other characters that have thus far appeared.**

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It was as if I myself were now possessed. I ascended into the heavens, a passionate detestation for all of humankind coursing through my veins and making me even stronger than normal. I awaited my sister. She met me in good time, and I absolutely whaled on her. Eventually, I had her pinned against the Town Capitol building, striking blow after blow into her face. Blood streamed out of the pores in her forehead and her nostrils. Just when it looked like I would permanently rearrange her face, she found a crack in my armor, took the opportunity to blast me away with one of her flames, which extinguished before they could do any damage, but distracted me long enough for her to fly away. Bubbles fled to the forest, where a mere two hours ago Blossom and I had fought to keep Bubbles safe, now I was tailing her to kill, or at the very least, permanently deface her in the same locale.

Before long, I was back in the forest. Once again, Bubbles, now possessed, began flying in a plethora of directions in an attempt to lose me. Into the dark depths and dense trees we went again. The devastation in the outlying forest and Townsville was evident, as the forest nucleus was the only asylum left. Through forks, bends, and turns I tailed my demonic sister.

"You'll pay for what you did, Bubbles; whether that was the real you or not!" I shrieked, angry and desperate. The chase continued for what felt like two hours, as the rain had begun to pour, extinguishing the flames of both Townsville and the forest, salvaging small snippets of what they once were. As I fired a heat ray at her, I paralyzed her long enough to grab hold of her and begun to lay into her once more. Once again, however, I could not sustain it, as she was able to break my rhythm for what must've been a millisecond, and found a way to hit me, this time with a supersonic scream, that gave her an opening to escape.

I nearly caught up once more, as I chased her through the dense forest, but this time she outsmarted me entirely. Knowing I would inevitably catch, and whale on her again, she dipped behind a tree trunk, flung it back, and hit me square in the face with a tree branch. I flew back, blinking the blood out of my eyes. I blinked the blood away just quick enough to see Bubbles swerve into an even denser part of the woods, I followed, but soon came upon a fork in the road, with no sight of Bubbles remaining. I had lost her. I had failed Blossom. I had failed Townsville. I had failed myself. As if the already enigmatic weather wanted to reinforce the feelings of failure with which I was engulfed, a torrential, albeit benevolent downpour put out the fires in the forest and Townsville. The Devil had done his work, and now he was done. Left with nothing but feelings of failure and worthlessness, I took the long route home, tears rolling down my face as I did so, and flew into the loving light of our bedroom, the realization dawning on me that this bedroom was now entirely my own.

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**End of Part I. Opening of Part II to be released Monday. :)**


	5. Chapter 5

**Hey, guys! Hope everyone had a great weekend! This is the beginning of Part II of the story! Glad everyone seemed to like Part I! **

**To AughraOfEarth: Thank you for continuing to review and enjoy! :) I truly worked very hard on this story, so I appreciate your feedback!**

**To R0C95: I'm thrilled to hear you're rooting for Buttercup! :) **

**To Solar Winded Flare: Your continued support makes uploading these chapters even more worthwhile. Thanks again! :)**

**Also, just a shout out to Solar Winded Flare again here, if anyone who's following my story hasn't read hers yet, "Hanging By a Thread", seriously, do it. It's a fantastic read, and completely gripping. :D**

**I do not own the Powerpuff Girls.**

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Part II:

In the weeks that followed, survivor's guilt became my personal pestilence. Each day I was plagued by feelings of guilt, remorse, loss, anger and bitterness. My classmates, neighbors, friends, teachers, and school counselors all tried to help me cope, frequently asking me about the experience, how I was feeling, and if there was anything they could do to help. What they didn't realize, however, was the best thing they could've done for me was to leave me alone and let me cope with it on my own terms. When I attempted to gently tell those who cared for me this fact, they only pursued the subject matter further, as if they knew better than myself what I needed to do to overcome the survivor's guilt I was feeling.

The continuous prodding inquiries on my state of mind began to take their toll on me as well, as my anger intensified, and oftentimes projected itself unto those who were simply trying to lend a shoulder to cry on. I wished I could just punch each and every one of them in the face since the message that I didn't _want _their help coping fell on deaf ears. I knew it was misplaced, but my anger at those who tried to help me turned into a disdain that escalated rapidly into utter detestation for those who loved me most. I appreciated their genuine desire to help me in my time of need, absolutely, but I loathed them for it.

The night provided no rest for my weary soul. In fact, the night was astronomically worse than the days were. At least in the daytime my detestation of humankind was due to the actions of other people. During the night, my hatred and anger shifted its focus from the men and women in my life to myself.

Without fail, the night brought me vivid dreams of the night that had so emphatically changed my life and forced me to grow up long before I was ready. Every detail of that night replayed in perfect succession. The uneasiness, followed by the growl, the chase with the bat-creature, the possession of Bubbles, Blossom's death, and the escape of the now-possessed Bubbles. This vivid nightly replaying of the events that transpired was the main reason I avoided speaking about what I went through during the daylight hours, as I knew I would be reliving it, inevitably in a more morbid, debilitating fashion each night.

Everything would replay itself exactly as it transpired in reality, with every detail perfectly captured, until we got to Blossom's death. As I hear the unmistakable "SNAP" behind me, I see the light leave Blossom's eyes, and she is let go of; but as she falls to the ground, she is able to exhale one final breath. She directs this at me, and says, barely audible, "_Why?_" before falling to her death and crashing to the ground below.

Each night, I'd wake from my dream drenched in sweat and tears. For hours I'd lie awake, trying desperately to go back to sleep, even though I knew perfectly well that further unsettling images and guilt-driven nightmares awaited me. As I lie awake, that nearly inaudible-yet-powerful "_Why?_" continued to echo in my head and the longer I lie awake the louder, more horrific it became. Blossom's voice menacingly reverberated in my mind. I plugged my ears, desperate for any relief, but that only made her louder.

"Why? Why, Buttercup? Why didn't you warn me, Buttercup? You knew it was coming, why did you let me die? Why do you get to live? Why did you let me down? Why are you such a failure? What will you ever do to atone for this? Why didn't you stay out of striking range for Bubbles and pursue her with a more logical plan? Why couldn't you avenge me? Why do you always insist on doing things _your _way? Why? Why? _Why?_"

"I DON'T KNOW!" I'd shout back to the darkness, tears continuing to roll down my face.

"DON'T YOU THINK I FEEL BAD, BLOSSOM?! DO YOU THINK I MEANT FOR THIS TO HAPPEN?! DO YOU THINK I JUST LET THE DEVIL POSSESS OUR SISTER?! DO YOU REALLY THINK THAT LOWLY OF ME, BLOSSOM?! DO YOU REALIZE HOW MUCH I DETEST MYSELF FOR FAILING, BLOSSOM?!" I'd sob and shriek to the night. Once I had finally released my own feelings of self-hatred, I was able to fall back asleep, even if relief of these feelings was impossible to find in a dream.

Bubbles also paid me nightly nocturnal visitations in my dreams. Once my shouting match (sometimes cried out and sometimes entirely internally waged) with Blossom ended, I would fall back asleep, and be greeted by Bubbles. Each night this dream was also the same. It would be a beautiful Sunday afternoon, without a cloud in the sky. I'd sit by the windowsill, brushing Bubbles' hair, and she'd look back at me, eyes alight with happiness and smiling in that serene way that only she could. Just then, a storm would roll in, and lightning would begin to crack across the sky. Bubbles would start shaking with fear, and tell me how she hopes one day she can be brave like me. I console her, tell her that it'll be okay, and that she _is _brave, and she returns to her state of serenity and happiness, and I continue to lovingly brush her hair.

It then begins to rain. However, instead of water coming from the clouds, the clouds turn red, and blood rains down across Townsville. The blood is a bright, ruby red, as if pure and innocent. This is the blood of souls who had done nothing wrong, but had lost their lives. Bubbles begins to sob weakly, I go to comfort her once more, but as I place my hand upon her shoulder, she produces that inhuman growl, charges at me, knocks me to the ground, and flies out the window. I am able to recover just in time to watch the bat-creature form of Satan shroud her, and the two fly off to create havoc in the world. I sit at the window, powerless to protect the world around me which I was created to protect from its malefactors.


	6. Chapter 6

**Hey, guys! Hope you continue to enjoy! :)**

**To AughraOfEarth: Thank you; I really, as the writer, was most concerned about portraying Buttercup's feelings strongly. So thank you!**

**To R0C95: It really is. We'll see how our leading lady copes!**

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Had Professor Utonium become more of a fatherly figure to me during this time of need, I confess the entire ordeal with survivor's guilt, the residual effects of which I still bear, would have been, at the very least, not as excruciatingly difficult. Unfortunately, however, he did the opposite. Prior to Blossom's death and Bubbles' disappearance, the Professor was a friendly man who made coming home from school or crime-fighting a delight. Only Bubbles called him "dad", but we essentially considered him our father. Because of this, I expected him to be the person I could confide in about how much guilt and suffering I was enduring in the aftermath of the disaster. However, the Professor turned cryptic and cold towards me, as if he felt that the tragedy that befell us was largely or entirely my fault. Every time I attempted to talk to him, the one person I truly did want to talk to about how I felt, he rebuffed me and would shuffle off to his laboratory, making God-only-knows-what and working on his dissertation.

Our relationship rapidly deteriorated into absolute nothingness. Within three months of Blossom's death, we never spoke more than two words to each other. Desperate to rekindle (or, I suppose you could say, initiate) our father/daughter relationship, I snuck into his lab on the day he was to submit his dissertation, and a lot of very unpleasant, unwanted, and harsh realities came to light.

Aside from his chemicals, test tubes, beakers, and other scientific instruments sat a small set of cabinets. How he made it, I'll never know. Frankly, I don't want to know. In the cabinets were a wide variety of dangerous ingredients. Being five years old at the time, I didn't know until roughly two years later, when I overheard a colleague confronting him on the matter, but the Professor had turned to methamphetamine to cope with the death of Blossom and Bubbles, whom he had considered his daughters. Along with the meth was a large quantity of beer bottles that he kept hidden, as well as antidepressants which he also must've smuggled from somewhere, as they were unlabeled.

Finally, after two years of waiting, I knew I had to confront the Professor on his drug and alcohol addictions. Even as a seven-year old girl, I knew he needed help. As his colleagues left the home, I flew down into the lab, and waited for him to come down to take his pills and his hit. I stood there, legs crossed, arms folded. It was as if the roles had reversed. I was going to have to parent a forty-two year old man. Anger, confusion, and utter embarrassment at the fact that I even had to have the discussion I was about to have with my father figure ran through me simultaneously.

"Buttercup… W-what are you doing down here? I've told you many times, sweetheart, the lab is off limits!" It was the first time he had spoken more than five words to me since Blossom's death.

"Professor, that may be all well and good, but I've known about your addiction for two years. Instead of being a father to me, and helping me with my guilt and suffering you have sat here and been drinking and doing drugs. For two years now I've been hoping you'd stop! I needed you and you completely have neglected me. It appalls me that I have to even have this conversation with you; you're a grown man, Professor!"

The Professor gave a deep sigh. "Buttercup, you have no idea how sorry I am, but I myself am dealing with guilt and this is the only way I know how. You three were supposed to never turn on, much less kill each other."

My mouth hit the floor.

"Professor, we may be your 'creations', but my sisters were, and I am, ultimately a human being. We're not just your lab rats. Is this really all you viewed us as for years?!"

"Of course not, but I miss your sisters so much, and I just wish I had found some way to save them. I wish I was a better parent." He began to sob. When he finally stopped, he got very serious, and looked straight at me.

"You deserve better than me." As he said this, he pulled a revolver out of his pocket, and put it in his mouth.

"NO!" I yelled. Instincts again took over, and I responded the only way I knew how, I lunged at him, punched the gun out of his mouth, and began punching him until he was unconscious. I didn't want to do it, but I had to save his life. I tied him to a chair while he was unconscious, and when he woke I explained why I did what I did, and hoped that he understood.

He didn't.

Following this episode, I essentially became the Professor's caregiver. Every day after I came home from school and helped the authorities with whatever they needed, I slipped him his antidepressants, learned how to cook meals for him, and made sure he had no access to cutlery, his revolver, or his drugs.

Any semblance of optimism I had in life evaporated rapidly as I essentially began parenting a man thirty-five years my senior who was _supposed_ to be a fatherly figure of guidance and intelligence. I no longer had time to play softball, interact with friends, or do anything besides go to school, fight crime, and make sure the Professor didn't drown himself in the bathtub.

I begged him to seek help, but he would have none of it, as he was ashamed of his drug addiction and alcoholism, and instead preferred to levy the burden of keeping him alive unto my seven-year old shoulders.

This daily routine, accompanied by the nightmares which refused to subside, aged me quickly. A glimmer of hope shone, however, in the improvement of the Professor's general mood about two-and-a-half years after I began caring for him. Slowly but surely, he tapered off the alcohol and drugs, and I finally had time once again to somewhat return to a normal childhood.

Then, just as quickly as normalcy and optimism returned to my life, it was extinguished. The Professor played a horrible trick on me. It was all a ruse. On the five-year anniversary of Blossom's death, I kissed the Professor goodbye for the first time in five years as I prepared for a typical day in fourth grade.

"I love you, dad." I said. It was the first time I had called him "dad," too.

"I love you, too, sweetheart," was his reply. He hadn't said those words to me in five years.

With my spirits higher than they had been in over five years, I flew home, excited to tell the Professor that softball tryouts were in a week, and I was going to take the sport back up, as I had missed it dearly in the five-year absence I had taken to care for him. I was grinning from ear to ear on my flight home, until I was greeted with a grisly surprise.

At the kitchen table, where mere hours ago the Professor and I had a father-daughter moment that had eluded us for five years, lie a butcher knife, and the Professor dead on the floor, his throat slit. Sitting next to the bloodied knife was a note. Shaking from head to toe, I picked it up and began to read it.

**_My Dearest Buttercup,_**

**_I'm truly sorry for leaving you on the note that I am, but I have been deteriorating and losing the will to live for five years now. I tried to fight it because you were trying so hard to rejuvenate me and nurse me back to health. Sadly, however, about five months ago, I realized that your attempts have been fruitless, and I am ashamed at myself for not being able to be a better father to you. You deserve better than me, and you deserve to live out your life without my presence burdening you. When I said I loved you today, I meant it with every fiber of my being. I love you, and I couldn't be prouder of you and the woman I know you will become. I am sorry, please forgive me, but I cannot continue to drudge on in this cruel world._**

**_I hope one day you can forgive me,_**

**_Professor Utonium, aka Dad._**

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**Rest in Peace, Professor. :/**


	7. Chapter 7

**Hope you guys have a good weekend, here's the aftermath of the note! :)**

**To R0C95: Glad you're enjoying it! I'm glad you can feel the emotions, too.**

**To AughraOfEarth: Thank you for always posting constructive feedback! It's much appreciated and the compliments are, too!**

**And yet another shout out to Solar Winded Flare, who just finished her amazing story "Hanging By a Thread"! Congrats, and I can't wait for your sequel. You're great, girl! :) **

**Enjoy, y'all! :D**

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I did not understand. I did not forgive him. I was in disbelief. It was as if I had been snapped in two. I screamed in desperation, tears absolutely consuming me. They were both devastated and angry tears. I was devastated that another person I loved had lost their life on my watch, but I was angrier that the Professor was such a selfish coward! After all I had done for him! After all we had been through! I was stunned, livid, and destroyed.

"YOU SELFISH SON OF A BITCH, PROFESSOR!" I wailed out.

"YOU COULDN'T JUST HAVE THE GOD DAMN DECENCY TO KILL YOURSELF WITHOUT YOUR LITTLE CHARADE? WHAT WAS THE POINT OF THAT? TO MAKE ME FEEL LIKE MORE OF A FAILURE?! YOU ARE A PATHETIC, SPINELESS COWARD!" I shrieked, kicking at his corpse, sobbing uncontrollably. This wasn't fair! Why did he do this to me?! What have I done to deserve this?! Who else that I love will I lose? What else would go wrong in my life?! I continued to bawl until I cried myself to sleep, only to be greeted by Blossom and Bubbles once again.

The police and the coroner arrived in the morning and took the Professor away. The harsh, cold reality that I was now entirely alone in the world was a wound that sunk in methodically and painfully. The Professor had no living relatives, since I was created in a lab, I didn't have a mother, and now I had no sisters, and my father figure turned out to be a spineless bastard.

The utter emptiness that consumed my life just added to the plethora of psychological pestilences with which I was afflicted. I still felt guilty over the death of my sister, and I quickly began having flashbacks of coming home to see The Professor dead on the ground. I was psychiatrically evaluated and found to suffer from posttraumatic stress. Could you blame me? I was a ten-year old girl completely alone in a world that I was created to defend. Within a week of The Professor's death, the authorities came knocking at my door, but not for help with a deviant.

The courts had decided that I needed to be placed into foster care immediately, seeing as I was underage. I wasn't having it. My life may have been a living hell, I thought, but at least I knew the area. Well, in truth, I wanted to remain in Townsville and in The Professor's own home for one very simple reason: softball.

I began a tussle with the American legal system trying to win my rights as an emancipated minor, citing the fact that I wasn't exactly a _normal _ten-year old girl as the chief reason why I deserved the deed to The Professor's house and the right to live out the rest of my days in it if I so damn pleased.

My battle with the state of North Carolina lasted two years, as Townsville's district court could not decide a ruling; I eventually won my case with the Court of Appeals, and won my emancipation. I would not become state property and I would retain the deed to the Professor's house, seeing as he had no living relatives to which he could have bequeathed his home and assets to. I wound up being granted all of The Professor's assets as well, so I had funds to live off of, at least until I finished school.

The long and tedious legal battle, like many things in my life, had changed me for the worse. By the time I had finished the final proceedings, I had learned far too much about the North Carolina legal system than I ever wished to, and had little patience for anyone or anything. In short, I became, even at the age of twelve, what anyone in their right mind would epitomize as a bitch.

While I still protected Townsville and did my duties with which I was created to do, my life experiences had hardened me. As I began seventh grade, I was already public enemy number one among the fellow females on campus. I was foul-mouthed, sarcastic, and had a very unpleasant demeanor and made it quite clear that I was not at all interested in being at the school, and that I was tired of listening to the teenage girls bitch and moan about their typical problems with all I had been through. Oftentimes I would wear a simple white tank top in spite of violation of the school's dress code, and tattered blue jeans. My hair remained as it always was: sharp on the ends, and I rolled my eyes at passerby. I didn't _want_ friends. I didn't want any support. All anyone I had ever gotten close to had ever done for me was find a way to_ die. _I wanted to be left alone, and I made it no secret. If I didn't have friends, I couldn't be hurt anymore.


	8. Chapter 8

**Hope everyone had a good weekend! :D **

**Thank you to AughraOfEarth and R0C95 for your continued input!**

**Thank you to everyone also for continuing to view! :)**

**Here's Chapter 8! Enjoy, everyone!**

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Now, as I had said, the only reason I even cared about staying in Townsville was because of the fact that I was the best softball player in the state. Even as a seventh grader, I was on the varsity team at Townsville High. The one true benefit to being an angry, heartless bitch was that I channeled all of my anger into my pitching. I could throw a softball at seventy-two miles per hour with ease. Each time I'd throw a pitch, I would concentrate my anger, guilt, sadness, and pain and invest it into that pitch. No one east of the Mississippi knew what hit them when I took the mound.

As I got older, my arm strength and my velocity improved exponentially. By the time I was fifteen, my fastball was up to eighty-five miles per hour, and I had developed an underhand curveball that baffled both the girls and the boys on the baseball teams, who asked me for a few pickup games. It wasn't long before I became a national commodity on the collegiate recruiting trail, as word spread quickly about the "Little girl with a big arm" from Townsville.

Like flying once was, pitching brought with it a feeling of complete liberation from the societal masses. Pitching became therapeutic as well, as every pitch I threw I released a little more of the pain, anger, hatred and sadness that swelled inside me in a continuous wave of emotions. Unlike my teammates, who loathed practice, I relished the opportunity to take the pitcher's mound, and utterly baffle all of my teammates, each of whom was either a junior or senior. I was the only underclassman on a varsity team in the entire division, and only one of three in the entire state. For two hours a day, I was truly in a state of bliss. Softball became my escape from the hells that dominated my life. For two hours a day, I was the happiest girl in the world.

Now, at first, I looked very out-of-place on the team. My velocity was always superb thanks to my superhuman abilities, naturally. However, before my freshman year of high school, I struggled mightily with my control. I either was unhittable, or out of control. I could pitch a perfect game (And I did, three times), or I could walk in six runs and not throw a strike. This lack of consistency gave me the horribly stigmatizing nickname "The Wild Child", and, despite my hard-shell front, this got to me. I was also hazed heavily, both by teammates and opposition due to my youth and fragility. All of Townsville knew my history and name, and both teammates who disliked me and opposing players would make snide remarks about me every time I struggled on the mound. The insults were plentiful, oftentimes akin to the tune of "Buttercup, can't save the game just like she can't save her sisters." Further buttressing the target I had on my back for being so young and talented was the fact that I was expressly forbidden from ever using any of my abilities to retaliate, and, more obviously, to my advantage on the field.

Then, after two years of this, I hit freshman year and developed the aforementioned curveball. Realizing that pinpoint control was needed to properly execute the pitch, my control increased exponentially. I quickly became the staff ace, and, despite being only in ninth grade, was the most sought after recruit in the country. All of the best softball schools were coming to games I pitched, becoming enamored with my velocity and movement on my pitches. More importantly to me, however, was that I won the begrudging respect of every softball player and coach in North Carolina, and the adoration of my teammates. I may not have been the nicest girl in town, but I was queen of the softball field, and all of Dixie knew it.

After my fifth start of the season, by which time I had compiled five complete games, four shutouts, ninety-six strikeouts to only four walks, and an earned run average of .85, scholarship offers began flooding in. Arizona, Michigan, Alabama, Tennessee, Ole Miss, North Carolina, Texas, and Georgia all had decided they wanted me and began courting me heavily, offering me campus visits and pitching clinics with their most legendary pitchers.

Out of all my suitors, one school stood out. Joe Talon, the Alabama coach, paid me a personal visit in my home during fall break of freshman year, and offered me a scholarship. At first, I was delighted, but I knew I'd be unwise to commit so early in the recruiting process. However, I was ambitious, I wanted to see how badly he wanted me.

"What can you promise me if I accept, Coach?" I asked.

"Something I guarantee you none of these schools ever will, and neither will I if you don't commit to me now, Miss Powerpuff."

"You know me well. What exactly are you offering me, sir?"

"An opportunity not to play softball."

I fell off my chair.

"And I'd accept this, why?" I replied.

"Because I think you are the most talented pitcher I've seen. _Ever."_

"Well, sir, I am quite flattered, but flattery is not enough to win me over, sir."

"I didn't think it would. Perhaps the opportunity to pitch overhand would be, though?"

"Say what?!"

"That's right. I don't want you on our softball team. Granted, three years from now we'd be a national champion for sure if we had you, I want to bring you to Tuscaloosa, and I want you to come to the baseball field. I'm an assistant coach on the baseball team as well. Coach Bryant wants to give you a spot on his team, so long as you learn overhand. But, my dear, this is a one-time offer. It is my belief, as it is his, that you could be the first woman to make the major leagues if you were able to command your overhand pitches and developed the overhand motion."

My jaw hit the floor. However, I needed one more thing.

"If I accept, Coach, and I am kicked off the team during tryouts, I'll have lost out on a major opportunity in my life. Could I be guaranteed a year on the team? If I'm cut, or simply am bad at baseball, can I still try out for your team?" I was practically salivating as I spoke. A chance to break the gender barrier was something I truly could not pass up.

"I certainly can ask Coach on the phone now."

"Please do."

He called Coach Bryant. It was a quick phone call.

"He can make that promise!"

It was official. I was going to be playing for the Alabama Crimson Tide once I finished my high school days, but more importantly than that, I was going to be pitching for their _baseball_ team! Freshman year became a rapid blur, as every free weekend I had I was flying to Tuscaloosa to learn overhand from Coach Benny Bryant. Once I was taught the basic fundamentals of overhand, I was eager to try out pitching, and Coach Bryant brought out his bullpen catcher to give me a throwing session. At first, the catcher was not exactly pleased to see me.

"You pulled me over to catch _her?_" He asked, trying halfheartedly to mask just how absurd he thought this arrangement was.

"Yes, Rusty, and three years from now, when you're no longer here, she's going to be on our team."

Rusty howled with laughter. I was not only embarrassed, but now angry. I absolutely detested any slight on my abilities. He would've been wise to stop, but he didn't. After a long debate, Coach Bryant threatened to make him climb the football stadium's steps if he didn't stop. This promptly made him shut up, and he grudgingly squatted down with his mask and mitt to catch me.

"Coach, can I ask you one favor?" I asked.

"Sure, Buttercup. What?"

"Bring out the radar gun."

"Why?"

"Just do it, please."

To my surprise, he did.

I knew what I was going to do. The ball was smaller than a softball, and I found the overhand motion allowed me to get a lot more power into the pitch. I wound up, fired a strike into the catcher's mitt, and waited for the two men to process what just happened. I looked Rusty in the eyes, and folded my arms in satisfaction.

The two men stared at each other in bewilderment. My fastball clocked ninety-nine miles per hour on the radar gun, as I knew it would. Much like softball, pitching in baseball was natural, too. We threw for another hour, in which time I clocked one-hundred two, developed a dancing curveball, and asked Coach to teach me how to throw what he called a "knuckler", as I had no way to pitch that pitch in softball. I made a believer out of Rusty, and continued returning to Alabama for lessons, and eventually winning the respect of the men on the team, pitching to them in batting practice.

My life was, for the first time in ten years, filled with positivity and optimism, as I had finally begun to regain the confidence that I had been lacking since Blossom's death. I even began to soften my demeanor again around campus, and worked on finding a footing in the social structure of Townsville High. After all, life was not worth living out so negatively when I had so much going for me on the softball, and soon-to-be baseball fields.

With the newfound passion and happiness that came from my pitching craft, the nightmares that had plagued me for ten years also began to slowly subside, and I was able to finally focus on moving forward, instead of living in a world full of regret and guilt. Softball was almost nirvana for me, and the national attention I was getting for my power arm wasn't hurting my feelings of self-worth, either.

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**Has our leading lady turned a corner? :D**


	9. Chapter 9

**Hey, guys, sorry for the late posting tonight! I was at a baseball game for the last five hours...That my team lost and so now I'm sad. :/ but oh well...that's life.**

**To R0C95: Thank you for continuing to enjoy this story!**

**To Gragra: Thank you! :)**

* * *

The season was utterly magical. I started forty-one of the team's fifty-five games, losing only twice. Behind my efforts, as well as a potent offense, we coasted to the top overall seed in the North Carolina State Playoffs, losing only eleven games all year. When the playoffs hit, I singlehandedly took it upon myself to guide us to the championship. We played eleven games in the first three rounds, losing only twice, ironically both times our team's other pitcher, Minda Daley, took the mound. After Minda's two losses sent us to a decisive fifth game in the quarterfinal round, Coach asked me if I'd be willing to pitch every single game in the semis. I accepted, and I pitched four complete games, and we found ourselves in the Championship, facing the Charlotte Preparatory Foxes, the affluent all-female school and seven-time defending state champions. I was determined to beat them, for the Foxes were a team full of girls who possessed all the qualities which I abhorred. They were pretentious, wealthy, and condescending.

Fueling my dislike of the Foxes was how they took the loss to us in our only meeting this year. I tossed a complete-game, two-hit shutout, and we eked by them two to zero in _eleven _innings. My arm had never felt so taxed. I had matched their ace, Martha Hopkins, for the first ten innings. She, like me, possessed a quality fastball that hissed with danger and a curveball that nosedived on its way to the plate. While matching Martha, I overwhelmed her sister, Magda, who was the best hitter south of the Mason-Dixon Line. I capped off my eleventh shutout inning by getting her to lazily pop up to second base with a runner on. When my girls finally picked me up and hit a walk-off two-run homer in the bottom half of the eleventh, I raised my arms in jubilation and celebrated, then promptly went to congratulate both Hopkins sisters on a game well played, as the sportsman in me felt compelled to do.

Their reception was less than warm. Magda, who looked eerily like Bubbles and Blossom, with her blonde hair in two neat pigtails and her eyes a bright, comforting pink, begrudgingly shook my hand, promising me that if we met in the postseason, she would get back at me for dominating her today. Martha, who had my jet-black hair and Bubbles' blue eyes, was bulky and strong. It was clear why she had velocity on her pitches, which nearly matched mine, as she was virtually a horse. Stocky, but fit and strong. Bitter about defeat, she spat on the ground when I offered my hand, and professed that we got lucky. Repulsed, I went home, hoping for a chance to beat them a second time after their abrasiveness.

To hell with them, I thought. They were both seniors, and were committed to play at Mississippi State and Tennessee next year. I was headed to a better school and getting a tryout with the baseball team, I could understand their envy, but it still wasn't right. No matter, it fueled my fire to bring home a championship to Townsville High against the Hopkins sisters.

The series was an intense, tit-for-tat exchange. The finals, which were a best-of-nine, wound up splitting evenly between the first eight games, as Martha and I both demanded the ball, not allowing our team's second pitchers to get in an inning of work. By the ninth game, both our arms kept firing only out of adrenaline and a desperation to claim supremacy against the other. The final game was upon us. The largest crowd to ever watch a softball game in the history of North Carolina came out. Nearly six thousand people were on hand to watch Martha and my last duel. Even Coach Bryant and Coach Talon came out to watch me pitch. In fact, the game had so much local hype that the local news station picked it up and televised it across the state.

Just as the first eight games had gone, game nine was a pitcher's duel, with neither Martha nor I giving way. The Foxes did not get a hit until the top of the fifth, when Magda Hopkins poked one past shortstop Angelina Hicks, and I was getting no help from my Dolphins teammates, as it took even _longer _for _us _to get a hit. Ironically, seldom-used backup catcher Holly Hornbuckle, who was inserted into the game to replace Chelsea Starr, our normal catcher because one of my fastballs hit her in the chest by mistake, was the one who delivered our first, and only, hit of the game in the bottom of the sixth. Hornbuckle, who hadn't played in over a month, got a hanging curveball from the great Martha Hopkins, turned on it, and sent it just over the right field wall for a home run! My mind was racing. Three simple outs. That's all it would take. Three outs and the championship, utter dismay for Martha and Magda, and unquestioned supremacy on the softball field for both my team and I were ours.

Unfortunately, upon taking the mound for that seventh and final inning, pitching in my fourteenth straight game finally took its toll on my overtaxed arm. I retired the Foxes' eighth and ninth batters rather easily, but then the lineup turned over. My arm felt like a noodle. I still had the zip on my fastball and curve, but it took every ounce of will power I had to maintain that zip. My control waned. I threw a curveball, and lost grip of it as I threw the pitch, and on an 0-2 count I struck Sally Schimmele in the kneecap, and she got a free pass. I couldn't contain my frustration.

"FUCK!" I shouted in dismay.

This was not good. My arm was painfully sore. So sore, in fact, I was sure I was going to blow out my shoulder at any moment. I lost Meghan Malloy on four pitches, and suddenly the tying run was in scoring position. The next batter was Tacy Tang, who I desperately needed to retire. She was a threat, to be sure, but nothing compared to the monumental threat sitting menacingly in the on deck circle: Magda Hopkins.

As fate would have it, Tacy slapped an infield single just over my outstretched (and exhausted) right arm, and reached first base just before Angelina could fire it over to her sister Katie at first base. The bases were loaded, and stepping up to the plate was Magda Hopkins, who had slammed twenty-two home runs this season.

The entire stadium was silent.

Magda strutted up to the batters' box, her pink eyes glinting in an eerily similar way to which Blossom's eyes once reassuringly danced in their sockets. She looked her teammates on the basepaths in the eye, letting the twinkle do the talking for her. Her pigtails fluttered gently in the slight Carolina breeze. She dug her heels into the box. By the way she was gritting her teeth, I knew she was expecting a fastball. I threw her a curve.

Strike one.

Perfect! Next I did throw a fastball, but I missed badly, my control was fading.

"Okay, back to the curve" I nonverbally motioned to Holly. I threw the curve, but it sailed high. Ball two.

Determined, I tried another. This one dipped in the dirt. Ball three. One more ball and this game was tied. One more pitch out of the strike zone and I'd have blown everything I had worked for all year! That was _not _about to happen. I threw a fastball that froze Magda, full count.

Then, to my horror, I let my next pitch, one of my patented curveballs, come out of my arm flatly. It hung juicily in the middle of the plate, and Magda's eyes lit up, and she swung with zest.

The ball traveled high, and far…

It was hooking left…

Hooking…

And by mere inches, a godsend, it was foul. I got away with one.

I was not going to have another close call like that. I dug my heels in, myself, and tossed a curveball.

Foul.

I tried again. Foul.

Again. Foul.

I went back to the fastball, which she sliced foul.

Right before I was about to pitch my eleventh pitch of the at-bat, Magda asked for time. In the split-second I was taken out of the zone I was in, I was alerted to a searing, throbbing pain in my right arm. It felt as if my arm was on fire. I knew one thing: I had only one pitch left in my tank. It was now or never. If I didn't get her out now, I would have to turn the game over to Minda, and that was not an option. Magda had figured out how to fend off my curves and properly timed my fastballs, it was only a matter of time before she burned me and won her team the championship.

I was terrified, but I had no choice. I had to throw her a knuckler, even though I hadn't even attempted to throw a knuckler in the underhand pitching motion before. Desperate times called for desperate measures. Holly kept signaling for a fastball, I kept shaking my head no. Eventually, I winked at her, which was the signal to just trust me. Shockingly, she actually relinquished control of the pitch to me, and I prepared to toss her my knuckler. I knew she'd never hit it. My knuckler was forty miles per hour slower in overhand, and probably around thirty miles slower underhanded. I wound up, and pitched it exactly how I wanted to. The knuckler slowly moved its way to the plate, arcing high at first, making Magda complacent. At the last moment, the knuckler slowly dove down, too late for Magda to swing, landing just at her kneecaps.

"STRIKE THREE, YOU'RE OUT!" called the umpire.


	10. Chapter 10

**Hey, guys, this is the final chapter in Part II! Part III will begin Monday! :D**

**To R0C95: Yes. They won. Sorry for anyone else who was confused! If a batter strikes out, that's a good thing for the pitcher (Buttercup), so her team won the championship! :D**

**To AughraOfEarth: I suppose you'll find out! ;)**

**Enjoy the final Chapter of Part II! Part III begins Monday!**

**I do not own The Powerpuff Girls.**

**I do own all OCs in this chapter and prior ones.**

* * *

In the next moment I was buried deep under a pile of human rubble, as my teammates cleared the bench and went into a frenzy. I was hugged, kissed, praised, and jumped on. I reveled in it. I felt as if I was truly a hero again. After we were presented the trophy, I was promptly thrown into an ice bath _on the field_, and it was a welcoming feeling. My arm was limp and dead. I sat blissfully in it, reflecting on the work I had put in on the year, and how proud I was of myself, my teammates, and the entire school for their support, even.

My jubilation was short-lived, as I sat idly on the pitchers' mound nursing my exhausted right arm, Magda came up to me, smirking.

"What's so funny, Magda? Or is that the face you make when you get put in your place?" I asked, annoyed.

"Oh, nothing. Well, unless you count yourself. I mean, sure, you might be able to have the best fastball in the country, and are going to maybe even break the gender barrier in baseball one day, but are you happy, Buttercup? Are you truly happy?" She asked, her pink eyes glinting maliciously.

"Damn straight, I'm happy! Now if you don't mind, Magda, I would like to enjoy my ice bath in peace, so I can throw you a plethora of knucklers if I end up playing softball at 'Bama."

Her eyes continued that malevolent glinting as she stared at me. I was reminded of Blossom, except in an antagonistic way.

"Well, I guess I can't blame you for being such a good pitcher, Buttercup. You're such a fuck-up of a human being. I guess you have to find a way to release some of those feelings of worthlessness that must encompass you every day, so you take it out on us by striking us all out. I guess I have to credit you for using your anger in a constructive way. I guess you're good for something after all. God knows you're a lousy superhero, since you couldn't even save your own sister. Hell, I bet Blossom's turning in her grave right now, disgusted that you perform better here than you do in battle."

"Shut up, bitch. I'm warning you." I said, half-choking up, half-irate.

"Ha! What are you going to do? Your right hook is bathing in ice. Not that I'd be afraid of someone so worthless anyway. I sure as hell hope I never have to rely on you in a crisis. You'd probably just let my neck get snapped. Heck, it must be a tough life. I mean, Dr. Utonium hated you so much that he killed himself. I can't blame him, having to tolerate someone with such a fiery temper as yourself. Didn't anyone ever teach you to be a lady? Evidently not. Maybe if your creator wasn't a spineless fool and you weren't a rebellious little slut, maybe he'd still be alive. Or maybe if you didn't so emphatically ruin his life by letting Blossom die, maybe you'd be a normal girl and not getting all this attention. I bet you like all this attention, huh? You're _happy _they're dead, because it's given you your stardom on the diamond. You'd be _nothing _if they were alive. You must be smiling knowing their deaths have helped you so much –"

Suddenly, my arm was no longer tired. I flung myself at Magda. I seized her with my limp but untired arm, and ascended far above the field. I had to ascend at least a thousand feet up. As I looked her square in the eye, I began whaling on her with my surprisingly strong left hook, ironically similar to how I once whaled on Bubbles after she killed Blossom. She began trying to block my strikes, but it was futile. I laughed manically. I was now possessed.

"You foolish girl. I wouldn't defend myself if I were you." I twisted her arm mercilessly until she shrieked. "See, if you defend yourself, you might wrestle yourself free of my grip, and I can fly, and you can't, Magda. Furthermore, if you so much as touch me, I might just let you 'slip' if you lay a hand on me. You're going to regret what you said to me today, Magda. This is going to be very fun for me."

She was paralyzed with fear. I took Magda into a nosedive, descending far enough to where I could be seen by all spectators and players, but still high up enough to where Magda would die upon impact if I dropped her, and promptly broke Magda's nose, arm, and gave her two black eyes. I then slapped her across both sides of her face, and punched her so hard that she lost a tooth. Desperate not to be dropped to her death, Magda shrieked and wailed in pain as I unloaded shot after shot on her. But I wasn't satisfied.

"Want to die, bitch?" I asked.

"NO! PLEASE!" she begged, desperately.

"Oops!" I said, and I dropped her.

She fell, screaming, desperate. I took a nosedive, and caught her just in the nick of time to avoid her dying. She was sobbing uncontrollably now. I ascended further, and continued this torment for a good five minutes, each time letting her fall closer to the ground, flirting with death. When I finally grew tired of the psychological bullying, I descended with her, flew over to first base, and began bashing her head into the base, and rubbing her hair in the dirt.

Unfortunately, logic failed me in my fit of rage. On the ground I could be picked up, and, more importantly, arrested. Three police officers pulled me off the wailing Magda, and before I knew it I was behind a jail cell, still in my now bloodied-up pitching uniform. To worsen my situation, Coach Bryant informed me that he was revoking my scholarship offer and that he was extremely disappointed in me. I stewed on my violent and hateful emotions for my day-and-a-half stint in Townsville Jail, and came out to more bad news. Principal Ruffin informed me I was suspended for a week and banned from ever playing softball or any other sport while at Townsville High. Soon after, the North Carolina High School Athletics Board barred me from participation at any state high school. My beloved softball, that which had provided me so much solace and escape, and gave me a bright future, was over.

After my suspension, I withdrew from all live classes and opted to do all of my classwork through Townsville High's online program. I shuttered myself into my home, focusing on my studies, and only making trips outside of the home to buy groceries, fight crime, and buy expensive china sets with my ever-waning inherited assets only to throw them across the wall and break them.

I was a failure at life. I couldn't protect the world I was created to protect. I couldn't even protect myself from my own anger. All the friends I thought I had decided to move on in their lives without my volatile temper, never paying me a visit. The only other people I now saw were the unwelcome demons from my past who once again paid me ghastly nocturnal visitations. Blossom, Bubbles, The Professor, and Magda made sure to give me plenty of company in the dead of night.

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**End of Part II.**


	11. Chapter 11

**Hey, guys! Hope everyone had a great weekend! :D **

**Welcome to the first chapter to the final part of the story! Hope you're as excited to read it as I am to bring it to you! :D**

**To R0C95: Thank you for continuing to review. Sorry you feel bad, but I do hope by this point you are rooting for Miss Buttercup. **

**To Anon: WOW! Thank you! That is so sweet of you! I'm glad you enjoyed the chapter even though you're not normally one for sports! I thought if any of the Puffs would take up a sport, it would be Buttercup, as she was always most athletically gifted on the show and the most tomboyish. **

**To Anon (I think you're AughraOfEarth): Thank you!**

**Hope this next chapter sufficiently whets your appetite for what is to come in this final part of the story! :D **

**I do not own the PPGs. **

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Part III:

To this very day, I remain a recluse. I live what one could rather easily epitomize as a pathetic existence. After my meltdown on the softball field I quietly got my high school diploma and watched the remainder of my inheritance money evaporate due to my irrational and repeated purchasing of expensive china sets to break. Finally as I was wrapping up getting my diploma I realized the only way I could remain living in the Professor's house was to begin demanding reimbursements for my services to Townsville. I used the funds acquired from this to finance my ten-year undertaking at the University of North Carolina's evening school program, graduating with a master's in business analytics; with which I naturally proceeded to do nothing. I finally paid off the last mortgage payment just a few years ago, and I now continue to put my reimbursements into my ever-growing checking account, saving for some lavish vacation I will never actually get around to taking.

I suppose one could say I am the modern incarnation of an antebellum spinster woman who was never courted nor had an interest in marriage. I live alone in The Professor's old house, just waiting for some non-existent second shoe to drop. I remain almost entirely numb, drowning in my life's mundane routine of waking up, occasionally helping Townsville, and warming up Uncle Ben's Wild Rice TV dinners while I mindlessly surf the endless channels broadcasting different manifestations of the irrationality and insanity of the human race.

There was a time when I legitimately felt I was a unique, special individual, but like all significant relationships I ever had, those feelings either deteriorated or simply died. I guess, though, I'm not _entirely _numb, as I recently have begun to wonder what Blossom would say if she saw me in this miserable state today. I also wonder if Bubbles is still out there somewhere, still possessed or perhaps living her own life in hiding. In fact, those feelings of curiosity are why I even chose to truly narrate my life's story tonight.

I'm sure they'd be disappointed, but thankfully I'll never have to find out. Now that I truly think of it, this particular North Carolina night is rather familiar to me. It's oddly cloudy and dark for a summer's night. The ebony clouds are rather intimidating…much like that night thirty years ago… No, it is just a coincidence. Perhaps a cold front? Perhaps there's a storm up in the North? Well, now, the wind really picked up just now…

_Hooooowwwwl…..growl._

No. My mind must be playing a trick on me. That was _thirty _years ago. The wind did _not _just growl at me! I'm clearly hungry…There's a softball game on tonight. Maybe I ought to watch it. Yes, that will get my mind off things, certainly…

_ZING. _

There was a streak of baby blue light upstairs. No. Impossible. I must be losing my fucking mind! It's just because the rain is picking up. My mind is clearly still shaken from telling my story. It must be all in my head…I must've left the window open in my bedroom…I must go shut it!

Upon shutting the window, I found the room eerily illuminated by the ebony moonlight coming into the room. The yellow and dying bulbs mixed oddly with the blackness. It gave the room a strange sense of foreboding that I have not felt in thirty years. Perhaps a nap to collect my thoughts would be wise…

Just as I laid down, I felt something strange in my left hand. Unsure of what it was, I moved my hand in front of my face and saw, with my own eyes what could certainly not be a hallucination, a small lock of perfectly-brushed, fair blonde hair.

* * *

**In case there's any confusion...This is now present day. This is 35-year old Buttercup now narrating things as they happen, as this is no longer being narrated in the past tense. Buttercup is as unaware of where this is going to take her, or how it ends for her (If it ends), as we are. **


	12. Chapter 12

**Hey again, guys! Happy Wednesday! **

**To R0C95: I guess you'll find out! ;)**

**To AoE: Appreciate the compliments on my writing and style. Are you an Edgar Allan Poe or William Faulkner fan? Those two men are my literary heroes. **

**I do not own the PPG.**

* * *

I lowered my arm after a good minute. Bubbles was staring back at me blankly, as if I were a stranger. There was not an ounce of benevolence nor malevolence to her; she was merely as she was, as if a perfect cross between the blissfully innocent non-possessed Bubbles and the demonically possessed Bubbles. Absent were any of the features which once defined her innocence; but also absent was the malevolent gleam in her eyes of someone possessed. I wanted to approach her with caution, but the utter neutrality of her person prevented me from being cautious nor audacious. The serenity and placidity of her once-prevalent smile were rather emphatically extinguished, her bright, baby-blue eyes were not soft and comforting but rather cold and dark, and, most strikingly, was the change in skin color. Instead of the healthy whiteness that was the normal color of her skin she was entirely shrouded in gray, as if made of gas. I still am not entirely sure if she is really there beside me or not, or just a hallucination.

"Bubbles…?"

"Yes, I am indeed Bubbles. At least, the small semblance of what remains of her humanity." Her voice echoed flatly in the night.

"And what, exactly, do you mean by 'the humanity that remains of her'?"

"Simple. I am Bubbles' basic survival instinct. I am neither benevolent nor malevolent. I am neither friend nor foe. I dwell deep within Bubbles' subconscious, the only element of Bubbles' mind that Satan has not yet conquered and claimed as his own."

"Bubbles…You're alive?!"

"I suppose one could say that."

"You suppose?"

"Yes. Would you say that you're alive if the only part of you that remains truly you is the deepest and most barbaric depths of your subconscious? I'd wager not."

In all the shock of this encounter it just now dawned on me that Bubbles had not aged a day.

"I'd suppose not, either. Although, Bubbles, I must confess I'm not the person to opine on whether someone is truly living or not. I haven't truly lived in years. Speaking of which…how did you get here?"

"I have astral projected over a great distance. It's taken me thirty years to master the craft, but when you're possessed by a demon, eventually you begin to inherit some of its powers. I suppose in some twisted way this is a perk. It has come at a terrible price, however, for you see, Satan has stolen my innocence, my purity, my happiness. I am literally all that remains, Buttercup. Even if I am to be exorcised of the demons with which I am afflicted, my innocence will never return. It is dead. It is why I appear to you as I do. My eyes, smile, and fair skin were the marks of my innocence and my playfulness. The Devil sapped those qualities entirely from me within a year, therefore I appear to you now a mere shadow-figure of what I am supposed to be!"

"And why have you not aged?"

"When Satan used me to kill Blossom, he cast a spell on me as his servant. He cast a spell of immortality unto me that night, freezing me as a five-year old girl to forever do his bidding. This curse can be undone and I can age again if he is defeated. But more importantly I can simply begin living again as some semblance of what I once was if he is defeated. That is why I have come here, Buttercup. I have tried for years now to send you a message, but you have never received it. Do you recall the dream about the bloody rain you always have?"

I literally could feel my heart pumping as she spoke. "Yes…"

"That was me from the start. I was trying, desperately, to convey a message to you that while I may be demonically possessed, a small portion of me remains alive, albeit dormant, and that I need your help. Sadly, however, you never interpreted this dream that way. See, because while Bubbles has remained five years old in every other capacity, I, her subconscious, have never been conquered by Satan. I have mentally aged at a normal pace. It's taken every ounce of energy and willpower I have to astral project myself over this distance to see you tonight, Buttercup. I came because the dream has done me no good. I came because I am running out of time. I need your help, Buttercup. I need your help to defeat Satan and start living again. Please, Buttercup, help me."

"I can't, Bubbles. I'm sorry to disappoint you, but you're better off getting yourself out of this one. Every time I've ever truly tried to help those I love it's ended in their death. I tried to help Blossom fight you, and she died. I tried to save The Professor's life, and I did such a shit job of it that he killed himself anyway!"

"Is _that _why you have pathetically sat here and watched your life erode away? Because you blame yourself for the deaths in your life?"

"As a matter of fact, it is. Blossom died, and I failed her. I failed her again when I couldn't catch you that night! I failed our father figure because I didn't do a good enough job listening to his needs! I should've forced him into rehab! Then I finally found some comfort and solace in softball, and my irrational rage ruined that for me, too! What's the point of continuing to try and make some semblance of a woman out of myself anymore? There is no point. I can't change the past, and I am perfectly happy how I am now!"

"Are you, now? Enough of the games, Buttercup. You and I both know that is the saddest lie you've ever told. You mean to tell me, that when a distress call comes from City Hall, you don't, deep down, _pray _that Satan and I show up? You're telling me that _you_ don't want redemption? _You, _who is ever-proud of her physicality and athleticism, don't want to exact revenge unto those who have affected your life as such? Something doesn't add up, dear sister."

"People change, Bubbles… I would not have the courage nor the cunning to face Satan and the demonically-possessed you if they showed their faces. I just wouldn't. Life's time and trials have softened me. Surely you can understand this."

"I can, certainly. But I don't think you are giving yourself enough credit. I think you are lying to yourself. I find it childish and futile."

"Childish and futile?! Bubbles, do you not understand that I am a mere shell of my former self? Do you not understand that absolutely nothing in my life has gone right?! Do you not understand that I am a fuck-up waiting to happen? Do you not understand that I _cannot _help you? Do you not realize, dear sister, that Blossom and The Professor would still be alive if it weren't for my own miscalculations and missteps?! Do you not realize the _guilt_ that eats at me and erodes all semblances of my confidence, motivation, and, most importantly, _sanity _every single day because of the failure I have become?"

It was only now that I became aware of the tears falling from my eyes in droves.

"Buttercup…This is where you are wrong. Neither Blossom's death nor Dr. Utonium's death are your fault. You did everything you could to warn Blossom in time, you were simply too late. In the case of our father figure, he was unfortunately made of far less substance than either of us would like to admit. We and Blossom were his life, and he was so caught up in our perfections and infallibility that he forgot that we were emotionally human and that you needed him even if Blossom and I were gone. Furthermore, I know you also blame yourself for your failings in your softball endeavors. Yes, Buttercup, you made a mistake, because you are a human being. Superpowered you may be, but you are _human_. All humans, including you, make mistakes and are fallible. Your own fallibility and vulnerability do not make you a failure. What _does_ make you a failure, Buttercup, is yourself. You have spent the past twenty years of your life wasting away here in our home, just waiting for your chance to right wrongs. Yet, here I come, your sister, alive, albeit only just, after all these years, _pleading _for your help, presenting a chance to right _all_ the wrongs done unto you, and yet you refuse to aid me in my time of need. _That, _not your past, irreversible actions, makes you a failure."

As I opened my mouth to retaliate, I found my vocabulary escaped me. The emphatic anvil that my sister had just dropped onto my head with her words had the desired effect. I opened my mouth, but only tears, suppressed and held inward for over twenty years, rolled down my cheeks.

"Buttercup, it's okay to feel how you do. But you are _not _a failure. You have survived thirty years of trials and trepidations. That in itself makes you a success. But refusing to face what is ultimately your destiny, which is to face, and very possibly lose to, the Devil is cowardice, and someone no one knows you to be. What would you give to give the Devil his due? Answer honestly!"

"_Anything."_

"Then _please, _come with me and we will defeat him together, and then I can be reunited with my body once more, and I can truly be myself again!"

"I can't."

"For God's sake, Buttercup! Has fear truly crippled you this completely? I confess myself rather disappointed. Your cowardice is appalling. There is no shame in being afraid. There _is_ shame in seeing an opportunity to face your past and crumbling like a house of cards! How can you not see this? I need your _help, _and yet you sit here, unaware that you are failing yourself once more by not at least confronting what has haunted you for three decades! For the love of _God,_ you've been waiting thirty years for this chance! Stop lying to yourself!"

"Bubbles…I can't live with myself if I fail against Him again. I just can't…"

"And you could live with yourself more if you stared blankly into some black abyss and watched the last of me die like you're doing right now?! What would Blossom say if she saw what you've made of yourself?! Wake up, Buttercup! Please, listen to reason! You know yourself better than this! HELP ME!"

Her words continued to pierce into my soul like a dagger. Bubbles was absolutely right. Perhaps I would fight Satan again, Bubbles would die, hell, I may die _with her_, but I would die at least knowing I attempted to avenge Blossom's death and save humanity, which I was created to do in the first place. I could find peace in that. Her blue eyes stared back at me piercingly, much like I stared down adversaries in my youth.

"I…I'll do it, Bubbles."

"Then follow me to Klansman's Cross. He awaits us there."

"Klansman's Cross?! You mean the cabin deep in the woods where those rebel Confederate soldiers captured runaway slaves during the Civil War and brutally murdered them? He's waiting _there?!"_

_ "_Yes. He awaits us there because the Cross is a cesspool of human indecency and atrocity. He feeds off the lingering negativity in the air. You must be prepared for anything. He knows your deepest, darkest fears. He will use any trick to immobilize you, but you are strong. Are you ready?"

"Yes. As ready as I'll ever be, anyhow. Lead the way."

"Then we fly. We will stand tall, Buttercup. Follow me!"

Into a night not unlike the one that began the thirty-year downward spiral I've been marred in we flew fearlessly into, setting our sights on Klansman's Cross.

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**Aaaand here we go! ;)**


	13. Chapter 13

**Hey, guys! Happy Friday! Have a great weekend! :D **

**To R0C95: Thank you for always reviewing! :) I hope you enjoy what is to come.**

**To AoE: I reread the part you highlighted. I see what you're saying, actually. I'm not going to edit the story at this point, but I do see what you're saying there. I should've just added a neither into there. I'll be honest, however, and give you a little bit of a glimpse at the craziness that is my mind. The dialogue exchange between Bubbles and Buttercup in that chapter was, by far and away, the hardest thing to write out of this entire piece. I spent almost a month just rearranging and rewriting that dialogue to my satisfaction. It was difficult because you're dealing with our completely emotionally defeated protagonist, and a not-so-nice version of Bubbles, who also has to be capable of reasoning. Plus, on top of all that, I had to make it sound somewhat realistic. It was actually harder to write Bubbles' lines than Buttercup's, because Bubbles isn't Sweet Bubbles, but she's not Evil Bubbles either, so I tried very hard to capture her apathetic attitude. I hope you could somewhat sense her apathy. Yes, I do agree that usually a survival instinct would be more barbaric, but my philosophy on this was, Bubbles' subconscious survival instinct knew that she needed to reason with Buttercup, so she did. I think something instinctual like that, if in a human, can become rational if rationality is its only option for survival. That is a very long conversation however that could go on for hours. :P I hope you like the explanation and do see where I was coming from while writing it, now.**

**ANYWAY! On with Chapter 13!**

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Bubbles flew swiftly and silently through the ebony night. Before long, the forest was in sight. It had been thirty years since I flew through these trees. Once again I was drenched in rain and sweat as the winds whipped violently, swaying even the sturdiest of trees to and fro on its merest whim.

I very quickly found myself following my sister into the deepest, darkest depths of the woods, and we then came to a fork in the road. A chill ran down my spine…This was where I lost sight of Bubbles all those years ago… Suddenly, I found myself unable to continue to fly forward.

"Buttercup…I know it hurts to be back here. That's one of the other reasons the Devil awaits us where he does. He wants you rattled. He wants you broken before you arrive. You have to fight this. It's time for you to make peace with your past. Let's move forward, now."

"One moment, please." I looked up to the rumbling sky.

"I'm sorry, Blossom. Please forgive me. I'm going to set things right tonight, I promise." My eyes watered once more.

"Buttercup…It isn't your fault. Blossom loved us both. I'm sure she forgave you the moment you lost me in these woods. Further to that, Blossom lives in _you. _That's the one thing you have forgotten. She lives in you. She will always live in you. You can do this. I know you can. You know you can. _She _knows you can."

"Yes. This is my battle. I've come this far, I can't run away now. It's still so hard to face these things again, Bubbles. Please forgive me."

"Of course I do. We're nearly to the Cross. Once we reach Dixie Creek we will see the cabin on the other side of it. I'm by your side this time. We shall overcome. Follow me."

When the trees became their thickest and densest, we came across the creek. The creek was running violently, it was impassable on foot. Bubbles descended, signaling me to follow.

"What's the matter, Bubbles?"

"This is where I must warn you once more. The moment you cross this creek you are in Satan's neck of the woods. When we meet him inside that abandoned cabin, each and every one of your fears, shortcomings, and weaknesses will be employed against you. Are you sure you're ready?"

"Yes, Bubbles. I have to face these demons sometime. May as well be now." My voice echoed into the dark trees. I was stunned with just how much conviction I was speaking, because I was quivering with fear internally.

The effect was immediate upon flying over the roaring creek. We had reached Klansman's Cross. The house of horrors, buried deep in Carolinian folklore, more than met its quota in terms of infamous dread and morbidity. The Cross reveled unabashedly in its own dastardly, macabre ambience. Even in the black of night I could see why Satan so cherished this old cabin. On the ground were a plethora of both human and animal bones, and old, tattered articles of clothing were ripped and spread healthily around the bones. Near the large cabin was an old oak tree with the bones of a hanged man dangling ominously on its thick branch. As we flew nearer and nearer to the cabin, the air got staler and colder as we flew, as if some ghastly, incurable pestilence pervaded the ten-acre property.

We reached the entrance to the two-story cabin.

"Your fate awaits you beyond that door, Buttercup."

A rusty old key hung innocently in the keyhole. I paused, staring at it intently. I knew once I turned that key, the option to retreat would be lost forever. The second I touched that rusted, bronze key, I would be forced to confront every demon, pestilence, and fallacy with which I was plagued. For better or for worse. In life, or in death.

I nodded at Bubbles and turned the key steadily. I turned it with acute precision, and permitted myself and Bubbles inside Klansman's Cross. The cabin was unilluminated by any light, and the door slowly and menacingly creaked shut behind us. There was a loud _click, _which signaled the locking of the door. Seconds later, a hollow _pop _was heard from the keyhole.

The key had vanished. There was now no escape from the dark, dreary cabin.


	14. Chapter 14

**Hey, guys! Hope everyone had a good weekend as we carry on here. **

**Thanks for all reviews!**

**Also...Guys, I want to make something clear before we go forward here, because things might get confusing. Bubbles is not sweet, innocent Bubbles right now. This is Bubbles' basic survival instinct manifesting itself to Buttercup in an attempt to get help. Her vocabulary is also high because she's aged at a normal rate while the rest of her hasn't. She's astral projecting as well (Meaning leaving your physical body) to see Buttercup here. That's why there is talk of "Her" and "Her possessed self." Hope anyone who was confused isn't now! :)**

**Enjoy!**

**I do not own the PPG.**

* * *

Darkness was the seal of the cabin. Bubbles and I could not see a foot in front of us. The air in the cabin, in contrast with the stale, cold air outside was curiously warm around us. The air still reeked of sin, as if the sins of the past made it warmer in the cabin. The warm, malevolent air caressed my and Bubbles' cheeks as we felt around, looking for any way to get light.

I extended my arms, attempting to step forward in the cradling darkness. I could not see my arm in front of my face. The only things I could see were Bubbles' blue eyes, wide open to my right. The cabin remained rather devoid of any other form of light or life.

"Are you sure they're here, Bubbles?"

"Believe me. They're here. He's been waiting for you."

I felt a whoosh by my left cheek amidst the blackness. That whoosh I knew oh-so-well. The whoosh of the bat-creature form of Him. He was here indeed.

Just then, there was a flicker directly in front of us. Two marble torches had lit on a very large stairwell roughly two yards in front of us, as if bidding us to follow the light. The rest of the Cross, and the rest of the stairwell, however high it may be, remained entirely enveloped in blackness. There were two black, severed human heads hanging beneath each torch. These were the heads of two runaway slaves. The myths were true.

"Please lead the way, Bubbles."

"I cannot. This battle begins and ends with you. If I were to face Satan and my possessed self without you, I would be consumed by my possessed self immediately. You know this is how it must be. He wants _you _now. He is quite content with his control of _me."_

My heart raced, and I stepped onto the stairwell. The next set of torches, coupled with two more Negro heads, lit the way again. We reached halfway up the steps, but the torches would light no more. Satan flapped his batlike wings a few steps above.

"Remove your shoes." This was not Bubbles speaking.

"_What?"_

_ "_If you want to proceed, girls, remove your shoes, or rot away on this step!"

Behind us where there were once stairs there was now sheer, empty blackness. The torches and heads levitated of their own accord. I narrowed my eyes to better see into the darkness ahead. The stairs in front of us were gone, too. We had to relinquish our shoes as payment to progress.

We stepped forward into the newly formed stair as the torch lit. The floor was extraordinarily slick and smelled of rusted metal. I grabbed the handrail for balance and examined the bottoms of my feet. Bubbles and my feet were covered in blood. Near the two severed Negro heads lay two spilt open cans. Evidently the Klansmen saved the blood of their victims...

More and more blood pooled under our feet on each step until the blood puddles were so thick we could not feel the carpet on the stairwell any further. We then reached the final stair, which was, unlike its predecessors, made of gold. It was also extraordinarily long. At the end of this gold stair was a small table with two shot glasses, a bottle of glistening red fluid with a pink, wordless label and topped off with a red bow, and a note.

"What _is _that?!"

"I don't know, Bubbles. But whatever it is, we must do something with it. There is a note with instructions here!"

"Read it, then."

"I shall..." The note was written in bright, red, dripping ink.

"_**Dear **__**Buttercup **__**and **__**Bubbles**__**:**_

_**You've come a long way, but you've only just begun.**_

_** I'm sorry to tell you, but you have not won. **_

_** Thirty long years I have been departed from this world,**_

_** Mindlessly watching as you, Buttercup, unfurled. **_

_** The time is ripe for you to remove your head from time's sands,**_

_** For it is my innocent spilt blood you hold in your hands.**_

_** Can you overcome the demons from your past?**_

_** Or will you surrender to your fear's demands?**_

_** How far will you go to get what you want?**_

_** Have you the stomach for it?**_

_** Or is it all for naught?**_

_** To get to the place most desired,**_

_** Drink the blood of your sister, long since retired.**_

_** One glass each from the bottle before you,**_

_** No more, no less. **_

_** Can you complete this task with no regrets?**_

_** Whether you can or not, this is your final test."**_

I simply trembled helplessly. "NO! Absolutely not! I can't! I'm sorry, Bubbles but I can't! What kind of twisted game are we playing here?! WHAT. IS. THIS?!"

"His final defense against you. You must drink it. There is no alternative!"

"I can't! I won't! This is my sister!"

"It's mine, too! But I'm doing what I have to do!" She gulped down a glass of Blossom's blood emotionlessly as if she were drinking a glass of water and poured another.

"Your turn."

"You really _aren't _human, are you?"

"No. I thought I made that clear." She suddenly advanced rapidly towards me.

"BOTTOMS UP, BUTTERCUP!"

The next thing I knew, I was pinned to the stair, Bubbles on top of me.

I was tasting the thick, metallic blood of Blossom the next moment.

"If I have to force this blood down your throat, so be it."

I swallowed the last of it and she helped me up.

"You're barbaric."

"No. I am desperate. Remember, I am not truly your sister. I am your sister's basic survival instinct manifesting herself to you. Frankly, I don't care if you don't survive tonight. I care about regaining control of my body and my conscious. Nothing else. Bubbles as her true self loves you dearly. I am merely an instinct. I have no emotions. I want to survive. To survive we must conquer the Devil. Speaking of which, why has the last torch not lit? I forced you to drink all of that, correct?"

"Yes...I'm not sure what else we need to do."

"Open your mouth."

"What?"

"Open your mouth, Buttercup."

"Why?"

"Just do as I am telling you."

I did.

"Just as I suspected. There is still some blood on your teeth. Lick your teeth and swallow it."

Slowly and painfully diligently I caressed each tooth with my tongue, making sure all blood was licked off and swallowed. It was a painful process. I swallowed, and a large golden torch resting on two grand double doors lit. The doors slowly opened, admitting us into a grand ballroom.


	15. Chapter 15

**Hey, guys! Just so everyone knows, I may not be able to update as regularly for a few days, as I am headed to Budapest, Hungary tonight and will be there for the next four months as I am studying abroad for a college semester. I will still try to update on the same days, but it may be early in the morning for me, which is 6 hours ahead of Eastern Standard Time, so you might be able to wake up to see updates starting Thursday night/Friday morning! :D**

**To R0C95 and AoE: Hope you enjoy what comes next.**

**I don't own the PPGs or HIM.**

* * *

The ballroom took up the entire second floor, with two other sets of double doors to the left and right. A blood-red carpet led into the center of the room, where the Devil and Bubbles awaited us patiently. The room was vast and spacious, perfect for the type of duel that was inevitably about to commence. Candles began to flicker to life atop the large golden chandelier. Upon each candle lighting, the sapphire gems dangling beneath the candles would come into the light and finish off the room. As we slowly began to walk into the center of the room, I hastily made a mental note of the axe conveniently hanging on the easternmost wall of the ballroom.

It wasn't long before we reached the center. The Devil remained in his bat form, flying menacingly above his possessed, slumbering servant, Bubbles.

"Good evening, ladies. " His slit-like eyes glinted directly in the direction of my own.

"I've waited thirty years for this moment. You may have killed my sister and possessed another one, but your tricks will not work on me. You will know defeat tonight. I am here to save my sister and avenge Blossom's death."

He morphed into his true form, and looked into my eyes with his bright yellow ones, standing seven feet tall, his crustaceous claws, womanish legs, and complete malevolence staring me down.

"But how could you have such lofty goals, Buttercup. I am the Devil. I am not a mere mortal. How can you be so confident, coming in here, when all you've done in your life is make mistakes that have cost the lives of your loved ones?"

"That's not going to work, Old Boy. If I feared you one iota, I would've remained shuttered into my room while you consumed the last of Bubbles. You _will _know defeat, and you will know it emphatically. You are a pestilence, and nothing more. A pestilence that will be conquered."

"I wouldn't be so sure. But you wish your test your wits against me? How amusing. Very well. Awaken, my lovely servant!"

The scarlet-bedecked, demonically possessed Bubbles awoke slowly from her slumber, stood up, and her eyes stared piercingly into her non-possessed, barely living counterpart. She quickly gave me a glance, and paid me no further attention.

"I've been waiting thirty years to take some swings at you, you vile, cruel–"

Bubbles put her hand out and stopped me from advancing on her demonically possessed self. It was evidently not up for debate.

"No, Buttercup. _She _is _my_ business. She _is_ me, after all. Deal with _Him_"

"Bubbles…_Kill your doppelgänger!"_

The two versions of Bubbles sped off through the ballroom, fixated on destroying the other. Demon Bubbles nearly pinned Bubbles, too, but Bubbles was astral projecting, so she separated and re-formed after Demon's fist was pinned to the wall. She _was _made of gaseous matter indeed, and could split her atoms and recombine them…

"I, in the meantime, will finally deal with you, Buttercup."

"Like hell!"

"How quaint…You're actually trying to destroy me. I value your bravado, I must say, but I know all too well how to deal with _you."_

I fired laser beams at him from my eyes…which he dodged easily.

"Always the violent way, Buttercup. Tsk, tsk, tsk. You haven't learned a thing."

"You're going back to hell, sir!"

"Not without you, I'm not!" He rose high into the air and suddenly created some odd force field around himself.

I followed. I shot laser beams. They disintegrated. I fired punch after punch. He was impenetrable.

"It's time to see if your past has _really_ been put behind you!"

Suddenly, there was a loud shaking. Even the two forms of Bubbles ceased their fight, which I was following out of the corner of my eye. Much like the fight three decades ago, it was a tit-for-tat exchange of blows, each being able to harm, but not fatally wound the other.

The shaking ceased. The double doors on the left end of the ballroom opened. It was like falling into a nightmare. Advancing toward me, was Blossom!


	16. Chapter 16

**Hey, guys, I come to you extremely jet-lagged and from Budapest, Hungary, where it is currently 3:11 PM, to give you guys an idea of just how far away that really is! (It is 9:11 AM on the East Coast right now!) I will be stationed here for school for the next four months, but will continue to upload regularly.**

**Hope everyone has a great weekend!**

**To R0C95: It is Blossom's spirit, but I don't think it's the way you think it is.**

**To AoE: Thanks again!**

**I do not own the PPGs**

**Have a wonderful weekend, guys! :D**

* * *

But she wasn't truly Blossom. Where her dazzling pink eyes once were, two hollow holes stood in her eye sockets, with blood leaking out of them continuously, running down her face in a grotesque red and black mix. Her red bow was shredded and tattered, her red hair was full of blood and her teeth were jagged and sharp on the edges, as if they had been filed to look imposing. She lifted her trembling left arm, and pointed it straight at me. Her voice was not her own. This was Blossom's corpse…now a faithful marionette of the Devil's to torment and torture me as he pleased…

"_BUUUUUTERCUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUP!_ _H-how you see me now is your fault…You did this to me. Why? Why did you do this to me? Don't you love me, Buttercup? Or did you just want to be the leader all those years ago?"_

"Buttercup! Don't listen to it! That's _not _your sister! You must fight it– "

Demon Bubbles hit her very hard over the head, and she whisked off the next moment. My body remained paralyzed. I was so paralyzed, in fact, that I couldn't even get myself to fly. I merely watched as Blossom advanced towards me… There was nothing I could do…

"_You have made so many mistakes, Buttercup! Why, oh WHY do you feel no remorse for them?! Aren't you sorry that your own mistakes led to my death? Don't you now see why I always tried to get you to see reason? You'd have made something of your life by now if you used any logic! Everything is your fault! How do you live with yourself? Why don't you just let me kill you now and we'll call it even? You'd settle a lot of scores that way!" _

"B-Blossom, I…"

"Don't listen to it, Buttercup, God Dammit! Just take the axe and fucking– "

And that was all I heard from Bubbles as I crumpled into a fetal position and put my hands above my head, preparing for the worst…

"_It will be easier for you than it was for me, dear, dear Buttercup. You can finally be at peace! Accept your fate, Buttercup! Accept that you must pay a price for your mistakes! No mistake goes unatoned!" _

Wait… I don't _have _to die tonight! I began crawling slowly, continuing to appear to quake in utter terror of her…which, I had plenty of fear of this demonic imposter, but I began crawling towards the axe on the easternmost wall…Bubbles was right…Blossom would not be saying these things to me…I didn't deserve this…

"_Come now, Buttercup! We can finally be a trio again! All three of us, happy, and your mistakes paid for! We can all be at peace! Wouldn't that be lovely, Buttercup? It's time to come with me to the depths of Hell where you belong!"_

I was getting nearer to that axe…Oh, the satisfaction it would bring to just chop that little puppet's head off... Only a little further…

"_Come with me, Buttercup! I will forgive you when you suffer my fate! I will forgive you when you accept your utter worthlessness! Prepare to suffer a fate worse than – "_

"ENOUGH! I AM NOT DYING TONIGHT! AND YOU ARE NOT MY FUCKING SISTER! YOU. ARE. A. DEMON. GO BACK TO HELL WHERE YOU _BELONG_! YOUR DEATH IS NOT MY FAULT, BITCH! YOUR DEATH IS NOT MY FAULT, YOU HEAR ME?! YOU ARE NOT MY SISTER AND IT IS NOT MY FAULT!" In one swift, sudden movement, I took a swing with the axe, and the puppet fell limp, as Blossom's head rolled across the hall floor, spewing even more blood from the eyes and neck than she already was.

I stared astonished at the bloody axe in my hand, watching the blood drip hypnotically off of it. For the first time in three decades, it felt as if I had truly put Blossom's death behind me. The two forms of Bubbles continue to fight to a stalemate to and fro around the massive ballroom.


	17. Chapter 17

**Hope everyone had a good weekend! :D **

**This is a short chapter, but I think you guys will like it! **

**I do not own the PPGs or HIM.**

* * *

Once more there was shaking. This time, the right double doors opened, and this time, I was greeted with a pestilence from my past. This time in the form of Dr. Utonium. He glided towards me much like Blossom just had, except the blood spewed continuously and methodically from his throat, where he had slit it all those years ago.

"_**Buttercup…Why? Why couldn't you be a good girl like your sisters? Why did you have to discover my secrets? Why did you try to keep me alive in this world that I so desperately wanted to leave? Don't you see that I hated you? Don't you see that all I ever wanted was you and your sisters to be my perfect little creations? I killed myself because you made me miserable. By trying to save me you only made it worse. You were always the runt of that litter. That's all you'll ever be, a runt, Buttercup."**_

"FUCK YOU! You are _not_ the Professor, fuck you! I'm not your fucking lab rat!"

"_**Oh, sweetheart. So ignorant. All you were ever created to do was help others and save Townsville. You would've never been created otherwise…I wanted daughters, and I got them in Blossom and Bubbles. All you are is an extra. You were simply added to make the team stronger. You were never special to me. You aren't special. You would've never been created if I just wanted daughters. Your sisters always considered you a runt, too. Bubbles is only coming to you because she needs help…not because she wants to be back in your life."**_

"Buttercup! YOU KNOW IT LIES! IT'S NOT THE REAL PROFESSOR! WHAT ARE YOU WAITING FOR?! KILL IT! KILL IT! IT LIES! IT LIES! Please, Buttercup! He's only going to continue to torment – "

And yet again, Demon Bubbles made sure Bubbles could give me no further moral support.

"_**Buttercup…Have you no regrets? How do you live with yourself knowing you cost Blossom her life, Bubbles her entire childhood, and me my sanity? How do you carry on? I don't understand… You are nothing. That's all you've ever been. That's all you'll ever be."**_

"You aren't The Professor! And even if you were, who are _you _to tell me I'm nothing?! You who turned to drugs and abandoned me because you couldn't get your shit together after Blossom died! It is _you _who is and was nothing! _You _are the biggest pestilence of all, Professor, and I do not feel guilty about your death! You did it to yourself! It's not my fault you're a _pathetic, selfish pig! _Now _stay the fuck dead! AAAAAH!" _And Dr. Utonium was now beheaded, too. I watched the head roll, and tears rolled down my cheeks once more.

I went to help Bubbles, but Demon Bubbles foresaw me coming to Bubbles' aid, and flew in behind me, and threw the axe across the room. It hit the floor with a thud. All was quiet, except for the flying back and forth of the two forms of Bubbles.

Both seemed virtually unable to harm the other…Bubbles simply dipped, dodged, and changed shape to avoid strikes, while Demon Bubbles, clearly benefiting from thirty years of demonic possession, was able to create force fields to dodge any direct hits back to Bubbles. One thing that was peculiar, though…was that Demon Bubbles kept her lips sealed airtight. There must be some reason why…

Satan and I both watched the fight intently in silence. It was a stalemate in every way. Neither could even harm the other any longer. Each attack simply destroyed part of the ballroom, or some painting on the walls.


	18. Chapter 18

**Hi again from Hungary, everyone! I'm finally settling in here.**

**I think you guys will enjoy this chapter, even if it's rather short.**

**I do not own the PPGs or HIM.**

* * *

There was no way that either could defeat the other, clearly. Bubbles couldn't actually kill Demon Bubbles, or she'd kill herself…Demon Bubbles couldn't actually harm Bubbles, because she wasn't made of solid or liquid…she was a gas…which was why she could simply manipulate her atoms to get of the way…

But if Bubbles could shapeshift, then she could defeat Demon Bubbles by finding a way inside her…That was it!

"Bubbles! Bubbles! Listen to me! I know how you can win this!"

"SILENCE, Buttercup! _Kill _them both, my servant!"

Demon Bubbles changed direction in an instant, and charged toward me. All I needed to do was hit her hard enough to get her mouth to open…That's all I needed to do…

"Bubbles! Help me! Help me get her to open–"

I was suddenly pelted by the sapphires from the chandelier. He was dislodging them from the chandelier and pelting them at me, making the fight with his servant two-on-two. I had discovered their weakness, and they were desperate for me not to reveal it…

I ascended high up to the ceiling, continuing to dodge sapphires and nosedived for the axe, grabbing its handle, knowing what I needed to do. "Bubbles! Just keep dodging her salvos! I have to make contact with her! I need her to open her mouth! When that happens…fly into it!"

"What?!"

"You're not solid! You're made of smoke! You can change your shape, fly into her mouth to regain control of your body and mind! You must beat her internally – "

I was thrust to the ground by Demon Bubbles. She seized the axe and took a swing at my head.

She missed…by inches. The axe was lodged into the floorboards. She tried desperately to re-seize it. This was my chance. I signaled to Bubbles what I was about to do, She flanked me on the right. I took off, Bubbles next to me, doubled back, dodging more levitating objects that Satan pelted at me, and seized Demon Bubbles by her sharpened pigtails and thrust her violently across the room. I then uprooted the axe from the floorboards and she began to realize what was happening. Satan was out of objects to throw…she began to flee in desperation…I was getting closer…I just needed to get a little bit closer…I was within range!

_THUD. _I struck her squarely in the temple with the dull side of the axe.

She shrieked in pain from the blunt trauma, and before I could blink, Bubbles flew into her mouth.

Time seemed to stand still.

Then, suddenly, Demon Bubbles began to violently contort, roaring out in pain, as she lost all control of her body. She zigged and zagged across the room, contorting violently, at one point her entire head seemed to swivel off her shoulders before reconnecting to her spine. She let out one final, emphatic roar of pain, and fell limp to the floor, eyes sealed shut. Whether she was alive or dead…Whether she was possessed still or not…I didn't know. I just stood, waiting for something to happen. Satan had come down from his force field. It had broken in the cataclysm of the combining of the two Bubbles.

I would not be denied now. This was a point settled quite plainly in my head.

"Come on, Satan! Why don't you fight me like a man, even if you aren't a man? I've taken out all your defenses. Your servant is no longer in your control or dead. Now come fight me like you aren't a terrified coward! You, the Prince of Darkness, needs to employ corpses and defenses to beat me? I find you laughably pathetic!"

."You have showed great sagacity tonight, to be sure, and I commend you for it, Buttercup…But I am the Prince of Darkness, and you do not know what you have done. Prepare to die, like your sisters!"

And darkness consumed the ballroom. It was a blackness with even more finality than the blackness in the entryway of the cabin. It was impenetrable. There was a whooshing. A repetitive whooshing, and the sound of bones crunching together… what was about to become of me?


	19. Chapter 19

**Very short update today! But believe me, you'll want more after this! **

**I do not own the PPGs.**

* * *

The chandelier jolted back to life. Bubbles remained limply sleeping or dead on the ground, and Satan was no longer in his bat-form or his true form…Instead, standing less than five feet from me…was a doppelgänger of myself. Except she wasn't an exact replica. Her hair was so sharp on its ends you could slice into your arms if you touched it, her clothes were full of blood, and as she opened her eyes, they were not my lime-green eyes looking back at me, but instead, a greenish, yellowish mix, with a glinting redness in the pupils that screamed of bloodlust.

She grinned maniacally at me. Where my teeth are in my mouth were instead dazzlingly white knives in hers, each sharp and desperate for some prey. She lifted her left leg, and was an instant from taking flight. This was what this was truly all about, then…

It was never me vs. Satan, or me vs. Bubbles, or anything like that…To win, I would have to conquer _myself _and every fallacy with which I was equipped! That's what it was always about…Accepting my fallacies and conquering them...

My counterpart began to take lift. There was only one thing on her barbaric mind: Kill me and any other man, woman, or child who got in her way. She let out a deafening roar…evidently she was such an instinctual and animalistic version of me she was incapable of rational thought or speech…That's all she was…an exact replica of myself, except with my most barbaric and fallible personality traits exaggerated to the absolute extreme…A killing machine…

Which meant she required only slight provocation…

"Come get me, I ain't scared of you!"

Bingo. She let out a roar…and off she went.


	20. Chapter 20

**Hope everyone's had a great weekend! :D **

**I know my recent updates have been short, but I hope you guys will find this update more than atoning for that! **

**Enjoy!**

**I do not own the PPGs or HIM.**

* * *

Every move I had, she had. She started exactly as I would have…she fired laser beams from her evil eyes at me. I swerved, dipped, and dodged by inches each time. I countered with the same thing, she avoided mine, as well. How in the hell was I supposed to beat her? She matched me in strength, intellect, and tactical approaches to a fight… How would this not end in anything but stalemate or my own death…?

I needed the axe again… It was lying just a few feet away on the floor…I needed it desperately…Anything to get an upper hand…

Before I could reach it, she charged me again, ripping a painting off the wall and tossing it at me with the ease that I once tossed a softball. I swerved just in time. She began charging me…My first instinct was to simply engage her in a fistfight…But then I remembered…I could not touch the ends of her hair, as it would cut into my skin, and I couldn't punch or kick her in the mouth because there were knives in it… I hastily swerved and ascended towards the chandelier, and dislodged the few remaining sapphires beneath the candles and pelted them at her, aiming for her head.

She deflected the sapphires like they were gnats, and began circling around the ballroom, zeroing in on a very large painting on the northernmost wall…Even for someone who matched me in brute strength, she was having difficulty taking it off the wall. There was a large glass casing over this painting. She attempted to remove the glass casing…this was my chance!

I ascended to the ceiling, pivoted off it with my bare feet, charged her, and seized the very back of her head, and violently slammed it into the glass casing. The glass shards began raining down as I had struck with such force that the entire encasement broke. Blood was spewing out of multiple pores in her face, and I had lacerated one of her grotesque eyes. She roared in pain. I got her!

…Or so I thought. As I dodged the raining shards, I watched her meticulously pull out each shard that was embedded in her face and hands…and with one blood-curdling screech, slowly and methodically pulled out the final one from her oozing left eye. She turned to face me and roared again. I was once again being charged by this maniac! Suddenly, she doubled back, and flew back towards the large, once-encased painting. I watched, I wasn't going to tempt her to charge me before I was ready. She seized the large painting, and heaved it across the room at me. It was so large that I could not fly out of the way! I had to use my laser eyes again. I flew up, and vaporized the twenty-foot tall painting of a Confederate soldier shooting down Union soldiers somewhere in Winston-Salem. She was stunned by the failure of her rather predictable attack.

I flew to the ceiling once again…She began pelting the fallen glass shards at me, and again I had to walk a tightrope as the shards flew out of her hand at a breakneck speed. I had no time to think of a counter. It was trial by fire…and I found myself running out of breath, even if I was flying, flying at breakneck speed was tiring after a while, too…

She continued to pick up the shards and flung them at me…There were still at least fifty or sixty shards left to dodge…I couldn't keep this up, I needed to buy myself time…Any way to stall the barrage…I was going to be sliced and diced if I didn't stop it…

The only way to stop her is to hit her…But how?! My train of thought was interrupted after I literally had to do a cartwheel on the ceiling to avoid getting hit. She was now shooting lasers at me as well as glass shards…She was utterly relentless…

I did another cartwheel, this time in midair, as a glass shard missed my neck by millimeters. I was running out of time fast…

My hands hit the ceiling. I had to do something. I pushed off the ceiling, and began aiming my feet at her gut and throat, she continued to pelt shards at me, and I was no longer fleet enough to dodge them directly, so I vaporized them as I saw them, pursuing her relentlessly. She finally made a mistake. She stopped moving, simply shooting lasers at me continuously. I swerved and contorted my body to miss them, but kept my feet deadlocked on my target.

_ THWACK._

I had one foot on her stomach, and lifted my right one as she roared desperately to escape.

"Alright, bitch! Go to hell!" Mercilessly, I shoved my foot repeatedly into her throat, kicking with force and velocity. She choked and gasped for air. Eventually she could no longer roar as I had successfully crushed her vocal chords. This was it. I was about to end my thirty year war with Satan and myself –

"OW! SHIT!" She had mustered up enough strength to slice into my foot with her, quite literally, razor-sharp hair. I lost my balance and fell, and she was on top of me the next moment. Just like that…the tables had turned. _This _was why I was forced to relinquish my shoes…For moments like this…_Shit!_

Her face was bloodied and bruised from my attack. It gave me satisfaction to see her left eye simply struggling to stay open without squiring out blood and other fluids. She opened her mouth, showing those knives for teeth. They glistened in the candlelight of the ballroom. She grinned psychotically at me, and let her razor-sharp hair come inches from my throat. She then lifted her head up, turned her head right slowly, and I felt a pain in my arm so sharp I thought I was being shot over and over again…

"OW! PLEASE! STOP! AAARRRRGHHHHHHH! FUCK!" She bit into my right arm with her knife-teeth. She then methodically moved back and forth on my arm…as if she were raking leaves. The pain was absolutely excruciating. She then looked back at me, smiled, and let the blood and skin she still had stuck on her teeth drip down onto my face.

Blood oozed out of my right arm. It was so sore I could not move it. She turned to the left…and repeated the process on my left arm. I turned my head to the right and choked back tears from the pain. I had only one thing I could do…and I had one shot at it. I jerked my head back forward…she was planning to now slit my throat with her sharpened hair.

"NO!" I shot my lasers again and hit her directly in the face, she coiled back and fell down from the blast. I had no time. I had to fly away! Painfully, I willed my bleeding arms and slashed right foot to take the flight position and took off back into the forest…It was only a matter of time before she'd catch me. I needed a place to hide until my wounds healed to the point of no longer bleeding. I was worthless as a fighter with my current wounds…It must've been four or five in the morning by now, but still there was no sign of the sun, and the rain had not subsided. I only had one or two more hours of precious darkness in this forest. If my wounds didn't heal by daybreak, I'd have to leave the forest and get medical help…

I continued to fly through the dense trees, looking everywhere for a place to hide…oh, did my body ache. My foot had stopped bleeding, but my arms were still dripping blood…I looked at the ground in a panic…I was leaving a blood trail! She would simply follow my blood to wherever I hide, ambush and kill me! There was no escape now…death was inevitable.


	21. Chapter 21

**Hey, y'all! It's my 21st Birthday! Enjoy!**

**I do not own the PPGs or HIM.**

* * *

I felt myself losing altitude with every passing minute. My body desperately needed rest, and I was still losing blood… I just wanted to at least find a comfortable place to die… As that's what I was resigned to. I could not conquer my own fallacies. I had failed like I always did. Superhuman strength, high intelligence, and bravado I had, but my glaring weakness was that I oftentimes did not think things through…and…once again…that…cost…me…everything…and this time…I suppose…I pay the ultimate price…and lose my life…But I mean, if this was dying…at least I'd be reunited with my sisters soon…and I could maybe find some peace again…If only I was… a slight bit…more…logical…then…

Wait a minute! I'm leaving a blood _trail_! And my doppelgänger is not me entirely… It is my most powerful but also grotesque qualities _manifested_! If that was the case…then all I needed to do was simply use her lack of logical planning against her! She would certainly be following my blood trail exactly…which meant I just needed to muster up the strength to get back to Klansman's Cross! She wouldn't double back to see what way I went! She would trust the blood trail with absolute certainty! This was it! I would wait for the bleeding to stop back at the Cross! This was the only way! But do I have the strength to get there? God only knows. I doubled back, blood still spewing from only my right arm now…This isn't good… If I stop dripping, she won't come back to the Cross, and I will need to venture out into the woods again…in daylight. No. I must make it there!

I reached about the halfway mark, as I doubled around a few times to give myself the most possible time to get back to the Cross as possible…but I had suddenly stopped dripping blood. Pinkness was rising over the eastern horizon in the sky. My time was short. But I couldn't await her here, with no weapons, and still two injured arms… What to do?!

To my right was a very sharp, jagged tree branch exposing itself; God help me for what I'm about to do…

Without hesitation, I did what I knew I must to deceive my illogical counterpart. I broke the branch off the tree, took it, and hastily jabbed it into my closing up blood wound on my right arm.

"YAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA AAAAAAH!" I couldn't help but bellow out in pain. I'm sure she was alerted to my current position, but I couldn't restrain myself from screeching, try as I might. I winced, gritted my teeth, and shoved the tree branch deeper into my arm, at least two inches in. Blood spewed out of it anew, and I sped off hastily back to the Cross. I twisted the branch out hastily and thrust it to the ground, more blood spewing as I went.

My entire body was ready to collapse…but I couldn't collapse now…I had her beat now…I just needed to wait until she arrived. I returned to the Cross, where sunlight had not yet reached, and the key that was there to greet me in the front door's keyhole hours earlier shone itself again…I turned it again, and I was greeted again with the same blackness upon entrance, but the marble torches were already alight. I ascended up the staircase, the Negro heads' eyes seeming to follow me as I flew back up to the double doors. I pushed them open slowly…I just stopped dripping blood. Perfect. However, I was still in a much weakened state, I needed every advantage I could get. I heard a _ZING_ outside. She was about to come through the Cross's front door. I had to act now! I ascended to the chandelier, and, positioning myself to guarantee I wouldn't be given away by any cracks of sunlight that could enter the Cross ballroom at any minute, blew out every candle on the chandelier, seized the axe, and squinted my eyes so my large eyes' lime-green couldn't give my position away in the darkness either. I hung on the ceiling, waiting to strike.

I made a spread-eagle position, and ever-so-slowly, unlatched myself from the ceiling, making sure I made no sound. My doppelgänger entered and searched desperately for me. I couldn't let her see me…I wasn't fast enough to escape her anymore. I had only one shot at this…

I descended far enough to get into striking range of her head…But I needed a clean shot. If I missed, she would charge me, and I would certainly die. Even flight was slow and painstaking for my absolutely exhausted mind and body.

She was turning her head to look behind her…I had no choice now…It was now or never...

She turned her head around…She was going to see me!

I shut my eyes, and just _prayed _I'd hit…

I swung…


	22. Chapter 22

**Hey, guys! This is it! The final chapter! All your questions will now be answered!**

**Thank you to everyone who read, followed, and supported this story over the past six weeks! It really means the world!**

**And an extra-long, extra big hug to Solar Winded Flare for being an amazing person, friend, and supporter to me since we met up! You are seriously the greatest and thank you for everything! :D**

**I do not own the PPGs or HIM! Hope you enjoy the ending here!**

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_Thud. Thud. Thud. Thud. _

I opened my eyes. She still stood in front of me, but without a head! I chopped it clean off. Her head rolled clumsily down the stairwell. Her body made one last reach for me, fell limp, and collapsed to the ground in a heap, next to the sleeping-or-dead, scarlet-bedecked, possibly-possibly not possessed Bubbles.

There was a loud roar. Out of Bubbles flew a black mass, and it combined with my demonic counterpart. The next moment, my counterpart disintegrated into dust. Satan no longer dwelled in the mortal world. At least for now. Daylight shone, and it lit the ballroom up beautifully. Bubbles was still slumbering or dead…I had to know…I _had _to…

"Bubbles! Bubbles! Are you ok?! Please don't be dead!" I shook her gently…desperate to see her young, long-disturbed five-year old body stir.

She did!

"B-Buttercup?! What's going on?! Where am I?! How much time has passed?! The last thing I remember I was being dragged across a forest floor and – "

"Don't worry about that, now, Bubbles."

"Why are you so big?! How many years have passed?!"

"It's been thirty years since you have not been possessed, Bubbles."

"P-Possessed?!"

"Yes… But it's over now, Bubbles. Oh, my God, Bubbles! I've missed you so much!"

"I've missed you, too, Buttercup."

I embraced my now-thirty-years younger sister, and I couldn't hold back tears. Before I knew it I was sobbing into her small shoulders. She was alive; she was free, at last.

"I'm sorry, Buttercup, for any trouble I've caused…really…"

"It's alright, Bubbles. Please, believe me, I would've never been able to save you tonight without your help."

"W-What do you – "

"Look deep within yourself, and you'll find the answers. _Trust_ me."

"Have you been okay?!"

"No. But I am now. I swear, Bubbles, I will never let anyone else ever so much as come near you. I will never let something like this happen again!"

"I've missed you, Buttercup."

"Believe me, Bubbles, I've missed you, too. Now, listen. My body absolutely aches, but I can muster a flight home. Why don't you hop onto my back? I'll fly you home like a princess!"

"I'd love that!" She grinned from ear to ear. Her hair softened, and the serenity of her person slowly returned, albeit not to its former glory.

"Off we go!"

I took off with my five-year old sister on my shoulders. Flight had never been as empowering as it was on this morning. After thirty years, I had finally found what I had been searching desperately for: redemption. I had finally righted the wrongs, I truly felt like I was living for the first time since that night thirty years ago.

We left the Cross, and flew back towards home. Sunlight was dominating the sky now…but one star above the eastern horizon refused to give away its spot in the North Carolina sky. I made eye contact with it. The star was a dazzling, bright pink. As I made eye contact with it, it twinkled at me approvingly.

"You're always with me, aren't you?"

The star twinkled back. Then it gave way to the daylight and the puffy white clouds.

At long last, Blossom was seeing me smile again, Bubbles on my shoulders.

For the first time in thirty years, I was at peace. I was truly happy and alive once more.


End file.
